


strawberry strudel

by thepromise



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: But mostly fluff, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, slight angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-08-20 11:43:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16555139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepromise/pseuds/thepromise
Summary: When quiet Mike has an encounter with new girl El at his mundane bakery job, the two are quickly thrown into each other’s lives. Through friends, music and pastries, their relationship blossoms among the cool autumn air of 1988.





	1. bakery boy & strawberry strudel girl

**Author's Note:**

> hi this is my first published fanfic!! i'm very excited to share it and i have a LOT planned for this story so stay tuned. i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoy writing it. <3
> 
> strawberry strudel playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/sarahzzzz6/playlist/4tNRMimtV5y8MsK1zaQoSh?si=EcYw8pkxTJeDIFvQ70OdCA

Mike strolled through the busy Saturday morning streets of Hawkins, wearing a grey overcoat draped across his lanky build. Late September was usually the time where it started getting more chilly, and although the 17 year old boy insisted that he wasn’t cold, his mother still made him bundle up. His friends always make fun of him for it, calling him “mama’s boy” and all sorts of other annoying names.

 

The crisp fall air settled onto Mike’s freckled cheeks and nose, tinting them a soft pink. His dark, shaggy hair danced in the wind and was a home for brown and yellow leaves to settle in. 

 

He passed a handful of quaint little shops before reaching his destination. A wooden sign coated with chipped white paint that read  _ Melvald’s Bakery. _

__

 

He sighed a puff of cool white air before inviting himself in to the warmth of the bakery, ringing the little doorbell. 

 

Mike loved Melvald’s. Brick walls coated with chipped baby blue paint, white wooden chairs and tables with little cardboard menus set atop them, and a nearby fireplace crackling. The sweet aroma of pastries wafted through the room, and  _ Age of Consent  _ played at a quiet volume. He felt at home.

 

A boy behind a glass pastry display looked up and flashed him a smile. Lucas Sinclair, Mike’s best friend of eleven years. “Paladin!” Lucas yelled over at him and bent back down to rearrange a batch of doughnuts.

 

“Ranger!” Mike came over and patted him on the back. “Need any help?”

 

“Nah,” Lucas said. “You know what happened yesterday.”

 

“It was an accident!”

 

“Accident or not, I can’t be having you dropping croissants everywhere.”

 

Mike huffed. “Fine.” Then turned on his heels over to the break room. He pushed open the rickety wooden door and removed his coat, hanging it on a nearby rack. He turned to look at his reflection in a smudged little mirror. Blue button up with a white embroidered  _ Melvald’s Bakery _ and a shiny silver name tag that read  _ Mike.  _ Wild black curls. Bright red cheeks.  _ Total dork. _

 

Mike applied for the job at Melvald’s Bakery for 3 reasons. One, to get away from his house. Family problems, parents fighting, that sort of thing. Two, he needed money for a car. His father won’t pay for it because Mike needs to ‘man up’, whatever that means.

 

And three, to meet girls he could  _ drive  _ in his car. It hasn’t been working out considering the only visitors are old people, hungry businessmen, kids, and the occasional embarrassing visits from the party. Plus, he’s not exactly the type girls swoon over.

 

Back at the pastry display, Mike arranged the cash register money just as shop was about to open. Suddenly a pair of squeaky red Chucks emerged from the kitchen and skipped over to Lucas, enveloping him in a hug. Max Mayfield, the newest member of the party. Mike, Lucas, Will, and Dustin met the feisty redhead in middle school four years ago, and they’ve all been inseparable ever since. All the boys in high school wonder why such a pretty little thing hangs out with a bunch of dorks, but she doesn’t mind.

 

And let’s just say her and Lucas have been inseparable ever since, too.

 

“Jesus, guys, get a room.” Mike said, eyes still focused on the quarters and five dollar bills.

 

Max flipped him the middle finger but quickly put it down, head craning back to scan around with wide eyes. “Close call,” she sighed with relief.

 

The boys chuckled. “Scared Benny’s gonna fire you?” said Mike. Benny’s the owner of Melvald’s Bakery. Jolly old man, but can be scary when he’s upset.

 

“You can’t blame me! Not after The Hell Arcade!” Max puffed a long strand of red hair out of her face. She had a point; she got fired from The Palace Arcade (The Hell Arcade, she calls it) for cussing out Keith.  _ Rashy Keith. _

 

Suddenly, Benny stepped out of his office and clapped his hands over his big belly. “Ready for another day?” He flashed a jolly smile, showcasing his yellow teeth.

 

“Yeahhh,” The teens unenthusiastically murmured.

 

“Ah, come on. Show some excitement!”

 

“Yeahhh!” They beamed and flashed him their best smiles.

 

“That’s what I like to see!” Benny scratched his white beard (the party calls him Santa Claus because of it) and waltzed over to the front window to flip the wooden sign over to  _ Open. _

 

“Well,” Max cupped her hands around Lucas’ cheeks and kissed him. “That’s my cue.” She tightened her blue apron and leaned over to flick Mike on the forehead, causing an “Ow!” from him.

 

“These cupcakes aren’t gonna frost themselves!” She threw behind her shoulder before the kitchen door closed shut.

  
  


______________________________________________

  
  


The rest of the day was a blur, and exactly what Mike had expected; old people, hungry businessmen, kids. There were 5 minutes left before closing; all the other employees getting ready to leave and the three teens goofing around behind the counter, waiting for Mike to rearrange the register money again. No one usually comes in the last 5 minutes, and Mike suspected today would be no different.

 

Back turned against the door, Mike tousled his hair and checked the digital watch on his scrawny wrist.  _ 4:56. _

__

 

Suddenly the doorbell rang. Mike and Lucas exchanged eye-rolls and without turning around, Mike angstily announced, “Sorry, we’re almost closed.”

 

Silence. Then, “I thought you close at  _ 5:00 _ ?”

 

Mike was taken aback at the voice. A girl. A younger girl, it seemed like. Her voice was soft and slightly raspy.

 

He paused for a moment, then turned around. The girl stood in front of the counter, expectant. Mike’s breath caught in his throat.

 

She was  _ beautiful. _

__

 

Short chocolatey-brown curls framed her pale honey skin. Soft features, rosy lips and cheeks, and those  _ eyes. _ Flaming amber-brown saucers that pierced into Mike’s soul and crawled under his skin, almost as if she knew his every thought.

__

 

He realized he’d been staring for far too long and cleared the lump in his throat. “Uh, what would you like?”

 

The girl cocked up an eyebrow. “So you’re  _ not  _ closed yet?”

 

Mike then realized what he told her before and cringed.  _ What if she thinks I’m only serving her because she’s pretty? God, I’m such a douchebag.  _ His thoughts ran wild until he could muster up enough to say:

 

“Actually, we’re not. I don’t… know why I said that.” He desperately wanted to zip up his own mouth.

 

She chuckled softly. “Okay, uh…” She craned her neck to look up at the menu hanging from the ceiling.

 

Mike couldn’t stop himself from staring. She was one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen in Hawkins. Her focused face and pouting lips, probably deciding between a chocolate croissant or…

 

“Strawberry strudel?”

 

Mike snapped out of his hazy daydream. “What?”

 

“Can I get the strawberry strudel?”

 

He blinked.  _ Strawberry strudel, how cute.  _

 

“Unless you ran out of them?” she teased.

 

“No, uh, we have those.” He stared on. “Just one?”

 

“Yes please.” She smiled.

 

_ God, her smile. _

 

Mike turned to ask Lucas for the order, but he was busy staring at the interaction in amusement. Max too.

 

“Uh… strawberry strudel?” He muttered under his breath. Lucas nodded and pulled the pastry out of the glass display, wrapping it in brown paper. “There you go."

 

“Thank you.” she said, reaching into her cross-body bag and fumbling for a five dollar bill.

 

Mike took the money from her hand, their fingers brushing ever-so-slightly and sending goosebumps throughout his arm.

 

“Thank you.” She said again, smiling directly at Mike this time. Their eyes met for a moment before Mike broke his gaze, blushing and pretending to fiddle with the cash register.

 

She pulled the pastry out of the paper and bit into it. “Mmh!” Her eyes widened. She flicked her gaze back to Mike and wiped the strawberry filling off her lip. “Definitely coming back.”

 

Mike thought he was going to die.

 

The doorbell rang again as she walked out of the shop and down the street, her petite figure swaying lightly.

 

“Who was that?” Lucas said with crossed arms.

 

“She looks our age,” Max began. “I’ve never seen her at school though?”

 

One thing was for sure. Mike Wheeler has a crush on strawberry strudel girl.

 

_ And he didn’t even get her name. _

  
  


______________________________________________

  
  
  


El opened the rickety cabin door with a half-eaten pastry in one hand. The whole walk back home, she couldn’t contain her stupid grin. El Hopper just had an encounter with the cutest boy she’s ever seen, and in the loveliest little bakery! 

 

“Mike, Mikey, Michael…” she whispered to herself, rubbing the leaves off her dirty black Chucks on the doormat.

 

“You’re late.” A gruff voice interrupted her thoughts.

 

El snapped her head around, making her messy brown curls dance. In the small living room stood a large Hopper carrying a cardboard box with  _ Vietnam  _ scribbled in big letters.

 

She sighed, pulling her bag over her head and tossing it on the kitchen table. “Sorry dad.” She checked the clock on the wall above the stove. It was around  _ 5:30 _ . Nearly two hours later than she’d promised him. “I lost track of time.”

 

Hopper placed the box down. “You should’ve at least called me on a telephone or something. So I’d know you were safe.” 

 

El rolled her eyes. “This is Hawkins, dad. I’m not in Indianapolis anymore.”

 

Hopper smiled and tousled her hair, then picked the  _ Vietnam  _ box up again, carrying it over to a dusty corner of the room. “So, how was it? Have you gotten more acquainted with this shitty little town?” He pulled aside a piece of floorboard and placed the box underneath it.

 

“You know, it’s not as shitty as you said it would be.” El said matter-of-factly, plopping down on the couch and taking another bite of her strawberry strudel. 

 

Hopper raised his eyebrows, trudging over to the kitchen. “Well, I’m glad. Thought you’d have a hard time adjusting.”

 

El shifted to watch him grab a beer bottle from the fridge. “I like it here. With you.”

 

Hopper hummed along, taking a swig of beer.

 

“And I went to the cutest little bakery. Melvald’s, I think it was.” El raised her pastry for Hopper to see. “This is to _die_ for. I’m going back tomorrow.” She tried with all her might not to let the words ‘cute boy’ slip out.

 

“Jesus, kid, breathe in between sentences.” Hopper bent down with a groan and handed her a box titled  _ El _ . “Help me out, would ya? Put up all your posters and nicknacks and whatever else.”

 

El sighed and took the box. “Fine.” She turned on her heels to her bedroom.

 

A beat, then, “El?”

 

She craned her head around. “Yeah?”

 

“Love you.”

 

El blinked, taken aback by her father’s sudden vulnerability. “Love you too.”

  
  
  


After hanging up countless posters of _The Breakfast Club,_ _The Runaways,_ and _The Clash,_ El flopped onto her bed and stared up at the popcorn ceiling; she sighed melodramatically. _Love Of My Life_ by Queen wafted throughout her small bedroom on the cherry-red record player she got for her 16th birthday. Sunlight poured through the window and onto her bedspread, enveloping her in warmth. 

 

El felt foolish for having a boy she’s only known for merely 5 minutes be the only thing occupying her mind. 

 

Bakery boy (Mike, she had learned from his nametag) had pale skin, almost translucent. Face dotted with delicate freckles. Dark curls draping across the nape of his neck and forehead, contrasting with his porcelain skin beautifully. Full, pink lips and rosy cheeks. It was a shame to El that he carried himself in a nervous, almost unimportant manner. He was the most charming boy she’d ever seen.

 

And El undoubtedly had a crush on him.


	2. el, el, el

Mike had never awoken this early for his usual Sunday shift, wide-eyed like a kid on Christmas morning. If strawberry strudel girl was going to visit Melvald’s again, he wanted to be prepared.

 

The gold sunrise crept through the blinds in Mike’s bedroom like little slants. His room smelled like pure teenage boy; cotton, deodorant, and a slight undertone of an old turkey sandwich. Or maybe potato chips.

 

The boy shuffled through a crate of CD’s in his messy closet before finding his favorite record, 1 by The Beatles. He popped it into a little CD player, a gift from his sister Nancy. 

 

John Lennon’s voice filled the room with  _ I Want To Hold Your Hand.  _ He made his way over to the dresser that was now far too small for him, tapping his long fingers on its wood surface, bobbing his head. He stared at himself in the smudged reflection of the mirror. “Get to work, Wheeler.”

  
  


 

Mike trotted down the stairs and into the dining room. His father was sipping coffee from his usual  _ #1 Dad  _ mug (a gift from Mike, although it was far from the truth) and reading the paper, mindlessly humming along to Holly’s chatter. His mother’s back was turned to them, pulling toast out from the toaster and onto four plates. It’s usually five plates, but Nancy’s gone off to college at Indiana State for about a month now. Although she and Mike constantly fought over trivial things, he really did miss having her around.

 

Karen turned around with an armful of plates and noticed her son, looking more polished than usual, and gasped. “Michael! Look at you.” She put down the plates without any mind and kissed him on the cheek. “You look so handsome.”

 

Mike’s inky hair was shinier, and the curls more defined. His face was clean-shaven and he smelled like that coconut spice cologne his father had gotten him for his birthday, but had always been stuffed at the bottom of his drawer unless needed for special occasions. The last time he had used it was for his cousin Tim’s wedding.

 

Mike patted his mother on the back. “Thanks, mom.”

 

Karen offered him one last thoughtful glance before turning to her husband, who was zoned out, stuck on a crossword puzzle. She cleared her throat. “Ted? Would you look at our son? He sure cleaned up well today.”

 

Ted looked up slowly, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “Oh. Morning, Michael.”

 

Mike pulled out a chair and sat down with a sigh. “Morning.” He shoved a piece of toast in his mouth.

 

“Good morning Mikey!” Holly sang. His blonde, doe-eyed little sister was busy drenching her toast in syrup. After a moment she looked up, perplexed. “You look different.”

 

Mike smiled and squished her cheeks. “Good morning to you too, baby Holls.”

 

“I’m not a baby anymore!”

 

______________________________________________

  
  


The hours at Melvald’s went by for what felt like centuries. Every customers’ face and order was a blur.

 

_ Sprinkled doughnut. $3.00. _

 

_ Chocolate croissant. $4.00. _

 

_ Vanilla  _ _ éclair. $3.50. _

 

The more time passed, the more Mike started to lose hope. Maybe this whole fantasy of the pretty brunette was going to be short-lived. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.

 

There were 7 minutes left of their shift, the three teens messing around behind the counter as usual. Lucas and Max laughing over god-knows-what, and Mike hunched over the cash register with disappointment painted on his face.

 

Lucas’ eyes trailed over to him. Max followed suit, crossing her arms. “What’s the matter, Wheeler?” she said.

 

Mike continued punching the last bit of numbers into the register, now with more force. “Nothing.”

 

“Romeo’s just upset ‘cause Juliet couldn’t make it today.” Lucas teased. He flinched when Mike smacked his shoulder with a muffled “Shut up.”

 

Max’s face lit up like she’d just made the greatest discovery. “So  _ that’s  _ what this is all about! You have a crush on that girl from yesterday! I knew you were acting weirder than usual.”

 

Mike shot her an annoyed look. “I  _ do not  _ have a crush on her.” He turned to Lucas. “You guys are lame.”

 

“Oh cheer up, Mikey.” Lucas started with a hand on Mike’s shoulder. “Our annual day-before-school movie’s tonight at The Hawk.” Max nodded along at her boyfriend’s words. “We’re seeing Beetlejuice, remember?” she chimed in.

 

Mike forced a weak smile. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” His words dripped with sarcasm. 

 

After a moment, Max’s crystal-blue eyes widened and she tapped Lucas on the shoulder. He gave her a perplexed look before turning to look out the tall glass windows showcasing the boring, small street. The two looked like they’d seen a ghost.

 

Mike frowned. “The hell happened to you two —”

 

Then the doorbell rang.

 

_ Shit. _

 

Mike turned to see none other than strawberry strudel girl, wearing a smirk and oversized flannel. Her doe eyes were playful and teasing, and her chocolate curls were tied half-up with a yellow scrunchie, showcasing her ears. They were slightly large but adorable, and Mike would soon learn he’d grow fond of them. 

 

“Told you I’d be back.” She said softly.

 

Mike smiled and placed his palms on the counter, his arms outstretched and his shoulders reaching for his ears. “And here you are.” He was taken aback at his own confidence.

 

She chuckled. “You know, I’ve been craving that strawberry strudel all day.”

 

Mike cocked up an eyebrow. “One strawberry strudel, then?”

 

The girl stepped closer, their faces now a foot apart. Mike could feel his cheeks heating up. “One strawberry strudel.”

 

He nodded softly and lowered his gaze, his newfound confidence escaping him already. Before he could even turn to Lucas, the Ranger was already wrapping up the pastry and handing it to the enigmatic girl.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Lucas smiled and turned to Mike, who looked like a deer in headlights. He kicked the lanky boy in the shin behind the counter, causing a pained flinch from him.

 

The brunette watched this unfold in amusement like it was an episode of  _ Perfect Strangers.  _ Mike turned to her, face bright red. “That’ll be five dollars, uh… er...”

 

“El.” She stated simply. 

 

_ El, El, El,  _ was all that ran through Mike’s brain. Without thinking, it dripped off his lips like honey. “El.”

 

El’s teasing smirk turned into something of a softer smile, and a shade of light pink crept onto the apples of her cheeks and tip of her nose. She pulled a crumpled ten-dollar-bill out of her flannel pocket and Mike took it, the same electrifying feeling of their hands touching traveling throughout his whole arm. He fumbled profusely with the register until he got her change and placed it in her palm.

 

He noticed something on her wrist, something he didn’t quite notice before. It was a thin blue bracelet made out of yarn. Something of emotional value, it seemed like. Probably from a boyfriend. She was so beautiful, how could she  _ not  _ have a boyfriend?

 

“Thanks…”  El started, eyes trailing to his nametag. “Mike.” 

 

And then Mike watched, again, her figure walk out of the shop and down the street.

 

_ She knows his name. El knows Mike’s name. God, El. He couldn’t think of a lovelier name even if he tried. El, El, El _ _ — _

 

“Holy  _ shit. _ ” Lucas tore through Mike’s thoughts, his dark, soulful eyes wide. He turned to Max. “Did you see that?”

 

“Oh, I saw it alright.” said Max, crossing her pale and freckled arms. “She’s got the hots for you, Wheeler. No doubt about it.”

 

Mike wanted to roll his eyes and quip back with his usual smartass comment, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Instead, he smiled and blushed like an idiot.

 

And before Mike could even register it, Lucas and Max clocked out and were almost out the door. The Ranger popped his head back in one more time and yelled, “The Hawk. Eight o’clock. Be there.” before letting the door ring shut.


	3. beetlejuice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know beetlejuice was released early 1988 rather than late, but it was too tempting not to use. enjoy!

Mike biked through the brisk evening wind, gripping onto the handles so tightly his knuckles turned pale. Brown and yellow leaves rustled down the streets that led him into the busy town strip. He passed a few shops and restaurants before spotting it, smack in the center of the strip. Bright bulbs surrounded a red neon sign that read  _ The Hawk.  _ Hung right under it was another sign where crooked black letters spelled out different showings.  _ Die Hard, Coming to America, Beetlejuice. _

 

Mike rode into the jam-packed parking lot (everyone at Hawkins High seemed to come here before school started) and parked his bike into an empty slot of the bike rack.

 

He pulled open the heavy glass door and was greeted with the familiar smell of buttery popcorn and sweaty teenagers. He anxiously fiddled with the pockets of his navy blue bomber jacket in search of his friends.

 

“Mike, over here!” Mike heard a distant voice yell. He turned to see Lucas, Max, and Will all perched on a bench near the soda machine, waving.

 

He sat next to the three and checked his watch.  _ 7:55.  _ “Where’s Dustin?” 

 

“Late, as usual.” said Lucas.

  
  


______________________________________________

  
  


El’s foot was propped up on the dashboard of her father’s truck as she struggled to tie her black lace-up boots. A curly strand of hair fell in front of her face and she huffed it away, annoyed.

 

Hopper glanced over at her and then back on the road, smiling to himself.  _ Uptown Girl  _ wafted through the truck over the old radio with the two sitting in comfortable silence. 

 

It was the day before El started school in Hawkins for the first time.  _ Junior year being the new girl, just great. _ She wondered if maybe the boy from the bakery, Mike, went to Hawkins High. Then she’d  know at least one person in this little town.

 

The 17-year-old finished lacing up her boots and leaned back into her seat with a sigh. She turned to her father. “Are we almost there?” Hopper had agreed to drop El off at the movies that night.

 

“Yeah, almost there. Why?” he said.

 

“Shit,” El fished through the pockets of her floral-printed dress in a panic. She pulled out a mascara stick and cherry lip gloss, then positioned the rear-view mirror to face her.

 

“All this for the movies?”

 

El’s eye was wide as she carefully brushed the mascara over her top eyelashes, then her bottom eyelashes. “People from school might be there.” 

 

“Fuck ‘em.” said Hopper. El paid his remark no mind and unscrewed the lip gloss cap, applying it to her bottom lip and then smacking her mouth together. She watched the street lights of the busy Hawkins strip begin to turn on like little orbs as it grew darker outside. They turned another bumpy corner and she finally spotted it, The Hawk theater. El marveled at the shiny, almost gaudy sign.

 

Hopper pulled into the cement parking lot of the theater. As she peered out the windows, El immediately noticed people pointing at them. She turned to her father, perplexed. “What’s wrong with them?”

 

Hopper sighed. “Well, you know I’ve been gone for a while, you know, getting you from Indianapolis.” El nodded along. He continued. “I guess they’re just surprised I’m back, let alone with a daughter. It’s a small town. Word travels fast.”

 

Her face lit up. “You didn’t tell me you were famous in Hawkins!” she teased.

 

Hopper chuckled and waved a hand, dismissing her statement. “I don’t know about  _ that _ .”

 

El’s eyes trailed to the watch on his wrist. It was almost eight. “I should get going,” She grabbed some change from the cupholder, counted it for a moment, then shoved it in her pocket. She began stepping out of the car but was stopped by Hopper. “Hey.” he said.

 

She turned around impatiently. “Yeah?”

 

“Be safe.”

 

“I will.” El offered him a quick smile and shut the door, but waited and watched as his truck pulled out and drove away. She turned to see a few jock boys gawking at her, and snobby girls whispering to each other about her. She looked over at another boy, staring at her near the bike racks. He had wild, ringlet curls tucked under a baseball cap, and what looked like little-to-no teeth. Fiddling with the hem of her dress self-consciously, El walked up the cement slope and disappeared into the theater.

 

______________________________________________

  
  


“Jesus fuck, let’s just go in without him.” Mike said to the rest of the party.

 

Will looked around impatiently. “He’s probably almost here—”

 

“I’m here!” yelled an obnoxiously loud voice. The four turned to see Dustin catching up to them, panting. He bent down and placed his hands on his knees. “I’m here.”

 

“It’s about time.” Lucas sneered.

 

“Sorry I’m late,” The Bard continued, all in one breath. “You guys won’t believe what I just saw.”

 

“Better be good.” said Max, arms crossed expectantly.

 

Dustin grinned. “You know chief Hopper?” The party nodded.

 

“Well he has a  _ daughter _ , and she’s here. Looks around our age. Everyone’s already talking about her.”

 

Lucas smiled and punched Dustin in the shoulder. “Think she’s desperate enough to date you?” Dustin shot him a glare. “I’m just saying, who knew the police chief’s daughter would be so  _ hot _ ?” 

 

Mike’s eyebrows furrowed at this, like he was trying to solve an equation.

 

Will rolled his eyes. “Can we get snacks now?”

 

The party muttered in agreement as they searched for money in their pockets, then placed the mound of it in Mike’s hand. He sighed. “Do I have the get the snacks every time?”

 

“We’ll save you a seat.” Lucas teased.

 

“Yeah, well, that’s the least you can do.” The Paladin quipped. They all turned to Will, who was still fishing for some spare change in the pockets of his red puffer vest. He looked up apologetically, holding up only a quarter. “I don’t have enough for a soda.” His voice was low.

 

“Not to worry, Cleric.” Dustin interjected as he dropped a few more quarters in Mike’s palm. Will looked at him gratefully.

 

The four party members left Mike and made their way to a sign that read  _ Theater 11, Beetlejuice _ while bantering about nonsense. As the boy waited in line, his mind began to wander.  _ New girl.  _ Hawkins is so small, everyone knows each other. Clearly Mike would’ve seen this girl somewhere?

 

“Next!” The cashier shouted. Mike seemed to be distant, clouded by his own thoughts. “Next!” She shouted again. He blinked for a moment, then moved up to the counter. “Sorry.”

 

The cashier giggled and tucked a chunk of blonde hair behind her ear. “You’re alright.”

 

“Can I get two large popcorns, extra butter, three Cokes, a water, and a raspberry slushie?” He had memorized the party’s order many moons ago.

 

She giggled again. “Sure.”

  
  


 

Mike wrapped his lanky arms around both popcorns and five drinks. He haphazardly slid the money across the counter and trudged to theater 11, his face nearly blocked from everything he was holding.

 

Suddenly, Mike heard a voice seemingly talking to him. “Need a hand?”

 

He stopped in his tracks and awkwardly peered past the buckets of popcorn. 

 

The last person Mike had expected to run in to. El, strawberry strudel girl, stood expectantly with her usual pretty smirk and arms crossed. She looked more gorgeous than ever, with a loose floral dress and lace-up leather boots that Mike had only seen British punks in band posters wear. Her big brown eyes were rimmed with dark mascara and her lips were tinted red.

 

She was his dream girl.

 

Mike cleared his throat. “El? Hey! Didn’t expect to see you here.” Out of all the times El had to see him, he was struggling to carry snacks at a movie theater.

 

“Yeah, me neither.” She crossed her ankles and took a sip from a Coca-Cola bottle that dangled from her hand.

 

After some moments of El staring and studying him, Mike reverted his attention back to her question, flustered. “An extra hand would be great though, thanks.”

 

El smiled ( _ God, her smile _ ) and took one of the popcorns from his hands. They walked alongside each other, slowly, like they wanted to savor every second together.

 

“So…” Mike started, eyes catching on her blue bracelet again. “You here with a boyfriend, I’m guessing?”

 

El stopped and turned to him, chuckling. “Uh, no. No boyfriend. Just me.”

 

_ Dammit, Mike. _

 

He interjected quickly. “No, yeah, totally. That’s always fun. At least you don’t have to carry a million snacks for your friends.”

 

She nodded and took another swig of Coke. “So what movie you seeing?”

 

Mike looked over at her. “Oh, uh, Beetlejuice.”

 

El stopped again, eyes wide. “Okay, this is getting a little too weird now.” Mike laughed. “Lemme guess, you’re seeing it too.” 

 

Before the two knew it, they reached the neon theater 11 sign and stood face-to-face in the entrance for an awkward moment. El’s complexion was drenched in the red glow and Mike thinks he’s never seen a prettier sight.

 

He finally cleared his throat. “You can sit with me and my friends if you want.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Yeah, ‘course.”

 

An uncontrollable grin overtook El’s lips. “I’d love to.”

 

He offered a quick, shy smile and motioned his head towards the entrance; his hands were still too full. “After you.”

 

El’s gaze lowered as she entered the dark theater flickering with blue light, Mike following behind.

 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Mike and El muttered as they shuffled past the people in the crowded aisle. When they reached the party, there was only one empty seat. Mike leaned over and whispered to Dustin, “Move over one seat, please.”

 

Dustin shot him an annoyed look. “Why?”

 

“Just  _ please. _ ”

 

He sighed and ordered the party to do what Mike said. There was a fit of collective groans and sneakers shuffling down the aisle. Now there were two empty seats. Mike sat down next to Dustin, and El next to Mike.

 

The snacks were passed around and the movie started. Not that Mike could focus on anything besides the fact that his crush was sitting right next to him, so close to him, looking like the prettiest punk rocker he’d ever seen. 

 

A few minutes passed, the two sometimes exchanging a laugh or glance, when Mike felt something in his peripheral. He turned to see the party looking at him and El, all wide-eyed and brows furrowed.  _ What? _ he mouthed.

 

Dustin leaned in, his voice hushed. “So you and the chief’s daughter, huh?” He leaned back into his seat with a smirk, popping popcorn into his mouth.

 

Mike stared back at the movie screen, which was all now a bright blur. El’s arm brushing against his sent waves throughout his stomach.

 

_ How could Mike be so stupid not to connect the dots? _

 

_ First she was strawberry strudel girl, then El, and now El Hopper: daughter of the police chief. _


	4. new girl

Mike walked his bike over to the bike racks below the school canopy, just by the front doors where students were flooding in. Lucas, Max, Dustin, and Will were stood talking by the racks with their backs against the brick wall. Dustin perked up when Mike joined them. “Hey, lover boy.”

 

“Jesus Christ,” Mike sighed. “Hi, Dustin.”

 

“So, what happened?” Lucas grinned.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” said Mike. Frankly, he did know what they were talking about. After the movie, the party went home while Mike and El walked and talked for a bit outside in the chilly night. Nothing too special, but it was still nice, and she still looked like dynamite under the fluorescent street lights. But right before he was gonna muster up enough courage to ask if he could walk her home, a police truck pulled into the parking lot to whisk El away. 

 

Mike could still picture her smile and hear her voice saying, “‘Night, Mike.” from the window. He also caught a quick glance of chief Hopper glaring at him before driving off.

 

“Oh, you know what we’re talking about.” Lucas pried, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his beige jacket. 

 

“You guys really wanna know what happened?” Mike said. Lucas and Dustin nodded, while Max and Will stared on in amusement.

 

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” He smiled.

 

Lucas, Max, and Will uproared into collective laughter and turned to Dustin. “You owe us each five bucks.” said Lucas. Dustin rolled his eyes, pulling his backpack onto his shoulder. “Fuck off, I’m going to class.”

 

Max pulled her boyfriend’s arm annoyedly. “Come on, babe, we’re gonna be late.” she muttered. Lucas turned to Mike and Will before disappearing into the school with Max. “Catch you guys later.”

 

A beat, then Mike turned to Will. “Betting on my relationships now, huh?” he teased.

 

Will smiled guiltily. “Wasn’t my idea, but… also wasn’t gonna pass up the opportunity for an extra five bucks—” He flinched when Mike punched his shoulder. 

 

The two swung open the doors to the familiar, bustling hallways of Hawkins High School.

  
  


______________________________________________

  
  


Hopper pulled into the crowded Hawkins High parking lot with a sigh, turning down the volume of  _ Twist and Shout  _ as he bittersweetly watched his daughter gather her things _.  _ Hawkins kids are different from Indianapolis kids. Hell, every towns’ kids in the whole damn world are different. He didn’t want El to go through any more shit, not after her sad excuse of a mother.

 

“Schedule?” Hopper said.

 

“Check.” El said.

 

“Pencils?”

 

“Check.”

 

“Boyfriend?”

 

“Che— dad!” El hit her father on the shoulder. “For the last time, he was just a friend I ran into.” He was referring to bakery boy, Mike, from the night before at the theater.

 

Hopper chuckled. “Okay, Jesus Christ.”

 

El shuffled through her crossbody bag and pulled out a sheet of paper with an, “Aha!” before unbuckling her seatbelt and stepping out of the truck.

 

Hopper leaned over. “Anyone messes around, you tell ‘em I’ll beat their ass.”

 

El sighed. “See ya.” Then slammed the heavy door shut. A group of jocks passed El, looking up and down her teal sundress. One of the boys wearing a letterman jacket whistled, causing her to jerk her head around at him.

 

Hopper rolled down his window and glared at the boy. He stared back with wide eyes and, like a hyper-alert rabbit, turned around and speed-walked the other way.

 

_ Reason #101 why El preferred her father over her mother. _

 

She fanned a hand at Hopper as if to say  _ go now,  _ and joined the flood of students into the building.

  
  


______________________________________________

  
  
  


First period, World History, was a drag. Mr. Kowalski’s monotone voice droned on all 45 minutes about the syllabus and his lame life with his dog. Mike’s long leg bobbed up and down underneath the wooden desk as he fiddled with his pencil. None of Mike’s friends were in that class and, without their presence, he wasn’t much of a talker.

 

The bell rang, almost instantaneously followed by students getting up and shuffling out the narrow door. Mike was halfway out when he accidentally stepped on a clean, white sneaker. The owner darted around quickly. Just to Mike’s dismay, it was Troy Steiner, certified bully and valued quarterback at Hawkins High.

 

Troy glared at Mike viciously. “Watch it, Frogface. These are new Nikes.” he sneered, popping the collar of his varsity jacket. His jock friends laughed, tousling his hair and punching his shoulder. Mike rolled his eyes and muttered, “Asshole.”

 

“What’d you say, you little shit?” said Troy, his voice now volumes louder.

 

But Mike continued down the hall with no mind, both hands clutching the straps of his backpack and feeling exhilarated by (somewhat) standing up to his middle school bully.

 

After getting a bit lost and trudging around the halls in circles, Mike slipped into English. The room was bright and its walls were decorated with colorful posters of authors and inspirational quotes. His eyes caught on one that read ‘Not all those who wander are lost’.

 

He chose a desk at the front, to the left, and plopped his backpack down along with himself. Soon people began to file in. Lucas and Dustin pushed through the crowd and scanned the room for a moment, then instinctively claimed desks next to the Paladin; Lucas next to him and Dustin behind him.

 

Mike turned to face them both. “Thank god you’re here. Kowalski was a drag.”

 

Dustin pulled off his hat and ran a hand through his sweaty curls. “You’d think being in this shit school for two years, I wouldn’t get lost now, huh?  _ Wrong.  _ Nearly circled the whole building ten times.”

 

“It was two times max,” Lucas cut in. “You’re just out of shape.”

 

“Eat my shorts.” Dustin said and flipped Lucas the middle finger. Mike chuckled at their lameness and turned back around in his seat, his long legs hitting the bottom of the wooden desk. His fingers tapped its surface anxiously as he waited. Not quite sure what he was waiting for, just something. 

 

A petite figure suddenly appeared in the doorway and into the room, and Mike’s eyes trailed over to it casually. That’s when he felt as if the breath had been knocked out of him.

 

El Hopper, of course.  _ Why wouldn’t it be? As if Mike Wheeler’s normally dull life hadn’t already been getting stranger, fate had now decided to put him and El Hopper in the same school. _

 

He wasn’t sure whether to offer fate a ‘thank you’ or a ‘fuck you’.

 

A teal sundress flowed and teased just above her knees, and the linoleum floor squeaked underneath her black high-top Chucks. Her wild chocolate curls were pulled half-up with teal barrettes; the same teal as her dress.

 

But one thing was missing—El’s pretty, teasing smirk, which was now replaced with more of a serious look. Her nose was stuck in a sheet of paper, perusing her class schedule with great focus; so much focus that she walked right by Mike completely, paying him no mind at all. 

 

Almost as if he was invisible to her. 

 

Lucas and Dustin watched as Mike’s hopeful smile faded. But his eyes were still on El as she sat a few seats down the next row, diagonal to him. She pulled out a blue pen and began marking on her schedule.

 

“Hey,” Lucas began quietly, leaning over the row. “She probably just didn’t see you.”

 

Although it was stupid, Mike could feel a lump form in his throat. Someone like El would never like a dork like Mike. She was lively, interesting, and possessed an energy no one else had. She deserved better than Mike.

 

But he mustered a small nod at Lucas.

 

The door slammed shut and interrupted Mike’s habitual overthinking thoughts. A tall man with a thick, dark mustache and pale skin stared excitedly at the class. “Hello!”

 

His name was Mr. Clarke.

 

After a brief self-introduction, Mr. Clarke tapped his pen rhythmically on the class roster pinned to a clipboard. “Alright, just gonna take attendance real quick.” His eyebrows furrowed. “Jodie Brown?”

 

A few names passed. “Michael Wheeler?”

 

“Here.” said Mike quietly. “It’s just Mike.”

 

Mr. Clarke nodded and marked on his clipboard. A few more names passed, then, “El Hopper?”

 

“Here.” called a soft, raspy voice. A voice Mike had fallen for so quickly. Something came over him in that moment, an urge to turn to her; and after a bit of hesitation, he did.

 

Turning to the seat diagonal to him, Mike saw an expectant El whose eyes were locked on him, examining him, spine against the seat and head tilted forward curiously. Noticing Mike’s eyes on hers, she smiled beautifully at him. Mike mustered back a close-mouthed, warm smile. The two shared a gaze from across the room for several moments before Mike heard the bang of a clipboard against his desk. He turned to discover Mr. Clarke, arms crossed and smiling down at him. “Everything okay, Mike?”

 

A few snickers escaped around the room, turning Mike a shade of pink. “Yeah. Sorry.”

 

“No worries.” The tall man stood upfront and studied his students carefully. A beat, then he clapped his hands together. “Alright! Like I said, my name’s Mr. Clarke.” He grinned. “We’re gonna have a lot of fun this year.”

 

The period consisted of Mr. Clarke reading aloud several poems written by dead guys in old-fashioned English that Mike failed to understand.

 

“Still, thou art blest, compared with me! The present only toucheth thee—” The bell rang, tearing apart the peaceful atmosphere of the classroom. “We’ll finish this tomorrow!” Mr. Clarke yelled to the crowd of teenagers scurrying out the door. Lucas and Dustin quickly exchanged goodbyes and left, leaving Mike alone to shove his things in his backpack haphazardly. 

 

Suddenly feeling something by him, Mike craned his neck around to see El’s hip brush past his desk. With her textbooks pressed to her chest, she turned on her heels to him and smirked. “We just keep running into each other, huh?”

  
  


______________________________________________

  
  
  


El couldn’t help but stare at Mike Wheeler all of lunch. She accepted the offer to sit with some boy at the jock table, but the table in front of her seemed much more appealing. Five friends, all laughing and stealing each other’s food, their bonds seeming so genuine.

 

And  _ Mike.  _ His dark curls fell in front of his face from time to time, and each time he’d blow them away aggravatedly. He wore a soft knit sweater and digital watch on his wrist, something El had been acquainted with since they first met.  _ God, how could someone be so— _

 

“Hey, toots, you eating your carrots?” El snapped out of her cloudy daydream to find the boy all up in her personal space. She leaned back slowly. “No… you can have—”

 

He grabbed her plate of carrots before she could finish. “Thanks, you’re the best.”

 

This left a bitter taste in El’s mouth. She looked around at the table. Rowdy jocks with half a brain and plastic girls dangling off their shoulders like accessories. She turned back to the boy and said sharply, “Do you even know my name?”

 

The table, along with a couple nearby tables, fell silent. The boy stared back at her blankly. “Uh… Ella?”

 

El glared at him and shot another look at Mike’s table, whose eyes were now fixed on her. Then, in one quick motion, El stood up and swung her bag across her shoulder.

 

The boy furrowed his brows. “Toots, where you goin’?”

 

El shot him one last glare and lifted her lunch tray. “It’s  _ El.  _ And don’t call me ‘toots’.”

 

The jocks watched in disapproval as she stomped over to the forbidden table of dorks.

 

“Can I sit here?”

 

They all stared in awe, then nodded. She plopped her tray down and swung a leg over the bench across from Mike, his pallid complexion turning rosier by the second. “Hey.” he said after a moment.

 

“Hi.” said El, taking a bite out of her blueberry muffin. She sighed. “God, that table sucked.”

 

“Yeah,” Mike started. “Troy’s a total dick.”

 

“So  _ that’s  _ his royal doucheness’ name.” El said, causing a chuckle from them. A beat, then she smacked her forehead with her palm like she’d forgotten something. “How rude of me! I’m El, El Hopper. I think we all met briefly at the movies.” Mike shot up his eyebrows as if impressed by her mannerisms and vocabulary.

 

The curly haired boy next to Mike shot a hand toward El with a confident grin. “Dustin Henderson.” She shook his warm (and kind of sweaty) hand. “So you’re the new girl.”

 

El chuckled. “Is it that obvious?”

 

“Yeah, sort of.” Dustin admitted.

 

“Never take him seriously.” the girl with fiery red hair interjected. “Max Mayfield.”

 

“Lucas Sinclair.” said another boy with dark skin and a charming smile. El remembers Max and Lucas from Melvald’s Bakery; co-workers of Mike’s.

 

El turned to the last boy with a light brown, almost copper bowl cut. She could tell he was the shyer of the group. “Will Byers.” he said quietly.

 

“Nice to meet you Will.” Then she turned to Mike. “And the famous Mike Wheeler.”

 

He grinned, their eyes locking intensely. “I wish.”

 

“Fame is overrated.” said Dustin, breaking Mike and El’s gaze. “Stalkers, weird cults, eventually becoming uncool and doing infomercials…”

 

“You’re quite the pessimist.” El remarked with a smirk while poking a fork around in her mashed potatoes. 

 

“You should see him after losing a game at the arcade.” Max chimed in, her striking blue eyes lighting up at the thought. “Total baby.” Dustin flipped her the middle finger and bit into his sandwich.

 

El leaned forward and perched her elbows on the table, Mike drinking in how close she was now. “So what do you guys do for fun around here? Besides the movies.”

 

“We got a mall, diner, arcade,” Lucas ticked each place off his fingers. “But we mostly just hang at Mike’s. He’s got a sick basement.”

 

“We’re hanging there tonight.” said Max. The group then looked at Mike expectantly. He looked around at them, flustered. El just stared on, half confused, half intrigued.

 

A long beat passed. Then, “Y-you can come too. If you want.” Mike stuttered, making eye contact with anyone _but_ El.

 

An invitation to Mike’s house already? Of course El wanted to say yes.  _ Yes, yes, yes. But all this happening only in the span of 3 days? And possibly having to meet Mike’s parents? _

 

She stopped twirling her fork. “Oh, you don’t have to—”

 

“No, really, we’d love if you came!” Dustin exclaimed. “Right Mike?”

 

“Yeah. We would.” said Mike, mustering up enough to look at El with the same intensity as before. “We would.”

 

“Plus, I won’t be the only girl around these goons.” Max added, her hand playing with Lucas’. El assumed they were a couple ever since the movies; constantly touching and teasing each other.

 

_ Fuck it. _

 

El’s lips curled into a grin. “Okay, yeah. I’ll be there.”

 

Dustin leaned forward. “Welcome to the party, El.”

  
  


______________________________________________

  
  
  


“‘Welcome to the party’? So what, she’s a party member now?” Will said with his hands jammed in the pockets of his old jeans. The five stood huddled in a corner of the empty hallway before third period.

 

“Come on, Will. She’s cool.” Lucas declared.

 

“Yeah, but we barely know her.  _ This  _ is the party I know,” Will motioned to them in a circle. “Right here.”

 

“She’s just new. We’re being nice.” said Mike with his Trapper Keeper pressed to his chest.

 

“And to help Mike get a girlfr—” Dustin muttered before earning a smack on the shoulder from Mike.

 

Max placed a hand on Will’s shoulder. “Look, you’re uncomfortable around new people. I get it. But can you just give her a chance tonight?” Will stared at her with large olive eyes, then nodded in defeat. 

 

_ Thank you, _ Mike mouthed.

 

They stood in momentary silence before breaking off like branches in different directions. One to Chemistry, one to Drama, two to French, and one very wide-eyed Mike jumbled with excitement and nausea to Geometry.

El _fucking_ Hopper was going to be in his house tonight. _El, El, El._  



	5. lucky charm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> real quick i just wanna say: i didn't think anyone would read this story before i published it, so thank you for all your kind comments. i also apologize for the wait getting this chapter out. enjoy!
> 
> *brief mention of anxiety in this chapter*

El stood outside Hawkins High and stared down at the piece of paper scribbled with Mike’s address, something he had handed her at lunch paired with a blushing smile.

 

_ 1130 Maple Street. Big house at the end of the cul-de-sac. _

_ -Mike _

 

She grinned and rubbed a thumb over his name, written messily between the blue margins. Mike didn’t have to write his name at the bottom, since El already knew, but he still did.  _ Cute. _

 

She wandered around under the canopy for a bit before spotting a beat-up telephone pole, racing up to it with her bag dancing on her shoulder. She fished some change out of her bag and slipped it into the slot, then put the phone to her ear. Eyes squinted with focus, her finger punched the cold and sticky numbers to Hopper’s station.

 

The school lot was now nearly desolate since the last bell rang ten minutes ago, surrounding El in quiet, save for the hum of the phone ringing in her ear and leaves rustling past her feet. She stood impatiently with crossed arms. Finally, an older woman answered. “Hawkins police, this is Flo.” Her voice was warm and grainy.

 

El perked up. “Hi, is chief Hopper there?”

 

“He is. Who’s speaking?”

 

“His daughter, El.”

 

El could almost hear the woman gasp. “Yes, he said you might call sometimes. I’ll transfer you over to him,  _ El _ .” She spoke her name as if it was a new, shiny, exciting thing.

 

A few more moments passed, then Hopper’s voice suddenly emerged from the speaker. “Yello.” His voice sounded extra gruff and scratchy, and El knew this was because he’d just been smoking. She always talks to him about quitting, constantly pulling cigarettes out of his hand ever since she moved to Hawkins, much to his dismay.

 

“Dad, it’s me.” She twirled her finger around the cord and prayed to god that he’d give her permission to what she was about to ask him.

 

Hopper groaned and muttered a few curse words under his breath. “Kid, I’m so sorry. I’ll be right there to pick you up. The station’s been crazy—”

 

El laughed. “No, no! That’s not why I called.”

 

She heard a creak of his wooden office chair followed by a sigh; he settled back down. “Don’t you need a ride?”

 

“No, not today. Because…” El didn’t know how to ask without concerning Hopper and sending him into overprotective mode.

 

“ _ El. _ ” She recognized that tone. The  _ spit it out  _ tone.

 

She sighed out a puff of white air. “I got invited to someone’s house, so I’ll just walk there today. That’s cool, right?”

 

Silence. El  _ hated  _ silence. Then, “Who’s house?”

 

Her eyes wandered in thought. She couldn’t say Mike, rather another, redhead party member. “Her name’s Max.”

 

More silence. “Okay.”

 

El gasped. “Thank you, thank you—”

 

“But you call me when you get there, kid, alright?”

 

“Yeah, yes, I will. Love you bye—”

 

“And don’t—” El clang the phone back onto the hook, cutting him off abruptly. And there she stood, hand still clutching onto the piece of paper from Mike, smiling to herself. She then rubbed a hand across her mouth as if to wipe off her smile, like the telephone pole was watching her be a complete, lovesick fool.

  
  


______________________________________________

 

“This was the dumbest fucking idea,” Mike muttered as he pulled his seventh t-shirt off, tossing it in a pile of science-fiction merch and polos.

 

Will paid Mike’s melodrama no mind as he laid drawing in his sketchpad, one leg dangling off the top bunk of Mike’s bed. Dustin sighed annoyedly and looked up from his gorey sci-fi novel,  _ Zombies and Robots.  _ “Calm down, lover boy.”

 

“Call me lover boy one more time.” shot Mike, slipping a Star Wars t-shirt over his lanky chest and arms. 

 

“Lover boy.”

 

Mike glared at Dustin’s stupid grin and playful blue-green eyes through the mirror.

 

“Too late now,” Lucas said, flipping through Mike’s VHS collection. “She already has your address.”

 

Will perked his head up. “You wanted her to come so bad, what’s the matter now?”

 

_ “Because I have a big fat crush on El Hopper!” _

 

Of course, that’s not what happened.

 

“You know what, never mind.” Mike huffed. The words so obviously hung in the air, and everyone knew it, but Mike didn’t dare say it. He’d rather suppress the words in the back of his throat, because that’s the thing about Mike: he’s absolutely terrible at expressing his feelings.

  
  


______________________________________________

  
  


Maple Street.

 

_ Maple Street. _

 

_ Where the fuck is Maple Street? _

 

El had nothing to guide her through the suburbs of Hawkins, no maps or pedestrians willing to help, save for Mike’s short, scribbled note on a tiny piece of paper. She looked at it again.

 

_ 1130 Maple Street. Big house at the end of the cul-de-sac. _

_ -Mike _

 

Then she looked at her other hand which held a wrapped, half-eaten strawberry strudel. She had stopped by her new favorite spot, Melvald’s Bakery, beforehand; but the staff was different and, somehow, the pastry tasted different too.

  
  
  


After wandering around like a stray puppy on the sidewalks of middle-class neighborhoods, El found herself staring up at the big house at the end of the Maple Street cul-de-sac.  _ The Wheelers  _ painted in white cursive on the mailbox was a dead giveaway.

 

She took a deep breath of fresh, autumnal air and walked up the slope with both hands clutching her bag.

 

Black Chucks stepped onto a blue  _ Welcome  _ mat just at the foot of the door, taking the opportunity to be wiped clean of leaves and dirt. El’s eyes caught on the reflection of herself in the side window. Warm, pretty, and youthful.

 

She lifted her finger up to the doorbell but it wavered, hesitated for a moment. 

 

_ Are you actually doing this? _

 

But El quickly shook her head and pressed it firmly, hearing it ring even from the inside. After a beat, she heard shoes skidding across linoleum and yelling. Then it seemed like a hand was aggressively toying with the locks and doorknob. El stared wide in amusement at this. Finally, she heard a click and the door swung open to reveal a grinning Dustin with an arm suavely resting against the door frame. “Hello, El.”

 

“Hello, Dustin.” El chuckled, hands still clutching at her bag like she was stepping into a forbidden cave. Well, her crush’s house.  _ Same difference. _ “Sorry if I’m late,” She held up her pastry. “Stopped by the bakery.”

 

“Bet you were disappointed to see Mike wasn’t there.”

 

El practically choked on air. “Sorry, what?”

 

Dustin burst out into laughter. “I’m just joking with ya.” He stepped aside as an invitation to let El in, tipping his baseball cap. “Everyone’s in the basement.”

 

She lowered her head to hide the blush forming all over her face and stepped inside. 

 

The scent of freshly-baked cookies wafted throughout the most all-American home El had ever seen. There was a soft-carpeted living room with a cushy amount of pillows on each sofa, a dining room with six wooden chairs around a long table, and a kitchen. She walked into it to see Mike’s mother who, sure enough, matched the setting of the house perfectly; like a doll and dollhouse sold together.

 

Big curls with highlights framed the round apples of her cheeks, which had a fair amount of blush packed onto them. Her eyes were soft and dark like Mike’s, but her wrinkled skin was more tan. She saw El from the corner of her eye and hastily put the tray of cookies down, slipping off her mittens and flashing El a pleasantly-surprised smile. “Oh! Hi sweetie! You must be Mike’s new friend.”

 

_ Friend.  _

 

El returned the smile; her energy was almost infectious. “Yeah, I’m El. El Hopper.”

 

The woman nodded slowly but seemed to be thinking. “Hopper, that sounds familiar.”

 

El turned to Dustin, who was smirking. She chuckled shyly. “Yeah… my dad, he’s the police chief. Chief Hopper.”

 

She gasped and smiled as if a lightbulb had switched on. “Yes, Jim Hopper! I knew him from high school.”

 

El nodded warmly.

 

An awkward veil settled over the kitchen for a moment. Dustin finally cleared his throat. “Can I have a cookie, Karen?”

 

Karen sighed but smiled. “Sure, Dustin.”

 

“Sweet!” he exclaimed, grabbing two instead. “We’re gonna go downstairs now.”

 

“Bye Mrs. Wheeler!” El threw behind her shoulder, practically being dragged away by Dustin.

 

“Please, call me Karen!” She yelled from behind the counter.

  
  
  


Muffled banter came from the top of the stairs and became clearer as El invited herself into the basement. It took a bit for her eyes to adjust to the dim room, compared to the otherwise bright atmosphere of the house. But when they did, she felt her breath catch in her throat.

 

It was, for lack of a better term,  _ really cool.  _ Several lanterns and fairy lights hung from the rustic, exposed beams. Its wooden walls were plastered with posters of several sci-fi franchises. She walked further to see a square table surrounded by five chairs, and what looked like a board game. Walking even further (it was a spacious basement), she found where the voices were coming from, sitting spread out on two leather couches and listening to the radio.

 

Scanning the group, El’s heart sunk a bit.  _ No sign of wavy black hair. _

 

But she couldn’t ask them where he is, not yet.  _ Too obvious. _

 

So instead she plopped down on the leather couch with a smile. “Hey.”

 

Max looked up from peering over Will’s sketchbook. Her eyes widened. “El!”

 

“Glad you could make it.” Lucas added warmly. “We’re not really doing anything right now.”

 

“That’s alright,” said El, eyes now fixed on Will who didn’t bother to look up from his drawing. The rest of the party picked this up and followed suit, staring at the smaller boy, waiting for him to say something. Dustin cleared his throat obnoxiously and Will finally tore his gaze from the paper, eyes falling on El. “Oh. Hey.”

 

“Hey.” El always tried to be the bigger person, but aggravation was clearly threaded into her words.  _ Did Will not like El? If so, why? She had barely gotten to know him, let alone be his enemy. _

 

Suddenly the bathroom door creaked open and El no longer found worry weighing her down, rather a feeling of light and weightlessness. 

 

Mike stepped out, more relaxed than El had usually seen him, like he had peeled off his outer shell. He closed the door behind him and ran a hand through his messy hair. Finally walking toward them, El began to make out his outfit. A loose Star Wars tee over the same jeans from school. There was something about this Mike that El loved:  _ relaxed and messy and comfortable and… _

 

Her eyes traced up to his face. Dark and glowing underneath the lantern lights, pink lips pulled into a smirk, and warm and inviting eyes; eyes almost saying  _ you’re here. _

 

_ Beautiful. _

 

He sat on the couch opposite from El. She knew it sounded silly, but she couldn’t help but wish he sat next to her, hadn’t it been for Lucas.

 

They shared a sweet-like-honey gaze from across the coffee table, too stunned to say anything. El finally perked up. “Hey, Wheeler.”

 

“Hey, Hopper.” Mike’s voice was soft and low, like he didn’t want anyone else to hear him except for El. 

 

Quiet moments passed, then his eyes slowly traced past her teal dress (flustering El greatly) to the crumpled brown paper in her hand. “You stopped by Melvald’s?”

 

She blinked out of her daze. “Oh, uh, yeah. The strawberry strudel wasn’t as good though.”

 

Mike smiled, but this time it was a real, genuine smile; it was the cutest thing El thinks she’s ever seen. “You can thank Max for that.”

 

El turned to Max, wide-eyed. “You make the strudels?”

 

Max blushed. “Yeah.” She never seemed like the type to blush.

 

El leaned forward in her seat. “You’re wicked talented.”

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Seriously.”

 

Max smoothed out her outfit (a rainbow striped tee and jeans) like she was flustered from all the attention. “Thanks. I wanna go to culinary school for it, but I dunno, my family doesn’t love the idea.”

 

El’s eyebrows furrowed. “What? That’s so lame!”

 

They were pulled into a passionate conversation about culinary school and Max’s family, El sometimes stealing a glance at Mike, who was invested, drinking in everything she was saying.  _ God, why does he have to be so pretty? _

 

“Well your family’s dumb if they can’t see how amazing you are, babe.” said Lucas, leaning over to place a hand on Max’s knee.

  
  


______________________________________________

  
  
  


She was all Mike could stare at; his eyes were drawn to her like magnets.

 

Tan-ish legs crossed at the knees and black Chucks bobbing up and down energetically, with a hand sometimes smoothing out her curls and curious eyes stealing a glance at Mike occasionally. He felt his heart melt more and more with each look.

 

The six of them sat nestled in the little corner of the Wheeler basement with Mike’s bulky radio sat atop the coffee table, blaring out the top hits of 1988, along with overlapping chatter. A familiar pop song was playing,  _ Always On My Mind  _ by Pet Shop Boys, Mike thinks. 

 

He heard a sudden sigh escape from El’s mouth and he looked up to find her cheek resting in her palm. “You know, as much as I love manufactured radio pop, we should put on some real music.” But she quickly straightened up and looked around apologetically, as if she accidentally let the thoughts in her mind escape. “Sorry, that sounded rude.”

 

But Mike was far from offended. He wished to learn everything he could about El, get in her brain, her interests. Inquiring about others was his favorite thing to do.  _ God, how stalkerish. _

 

He shook his head. “What do you have in mind?”

 

El blushed and looked down at her fingers which found the material of her dress, toying with it. “I dunno, maybe The Clash or something, but it’s okay—”

 

“The Clash?” Will perked up much to Mike’s surprise, since he hadn’t let out a peep in front of El like he resented her. El seemed to be taken aback at this, too, since she was nearly speechless for a moment. “Uh, yeah—”

 

“I have a whole mixtape of their songs in my car.” Will proclaimed all wide-eyed. 

 

“Oh, God.” Max muttered.

 

“No way.” El grinned. “You like them?”

 

“Love them.” He set his sketchpad aside and stood up. “It’s right outside, I can get it—”

 

Suddenly a shrill voice emerged from upstairs. “Dinner’s ready!” Mike practically cringed at his mother’s yell.

 

“Fuck yeah,” said Dustin making a run toward the stairs, followed by Lucas and Max.

 

El smiled at Will assuringly. “Mixtape after dinner?”

 

He nodded slowly, as if coming to a realization that maybe El wasn’t so bad after all (although he’d never admit to being wrong), then turned to follow the others.

 

Which left Mike and El in the basement, alone.

 

It was now quiet, save for Mike’s heartbeat thumping in his ears louder than ever. A few glances here, some smiles there, but nothing happened for what felt like a century. After a bit of what looked like hesitation, El stood up and plopped down on the now-empty seat next to Mike.

 

Nerves poked and prodded at the pit of his stomach. He turned slightly to her and examined her soft features, eyes trying not to catch her gaze because he knew it’d be impossible to look away. “A-are you hungry?”

 

_ Real smooth. _

 

El chuckled. “Are you?” She had moved a bit closer now, yet Mike remained stiff.  _ Was he supposed to put his arm around her? _

 

Instead he looked down at his lap. “Not really, I gorged on too many chips.”

 

“Me too.” Her voice was softer than silk and echoed throughout Mike’s head, sending him into momentary dizziness. 

 

He looked around desperately for a distraction; something to change the topic, something to do,  _ anything.  _ His eyes caught on the back door that led out to the patio (well, by ‘patio’, more like a slab of square cement) and he stood up abruptly. “Walk?”

 

Her head craned up at the tall boy. “Huh?”

 

“Sorry,” Mike laughed to mask his embarrassment. “Wanna go for a walk? Outside? It’s kinda stuffy down here.”

 

A grin played at El’s lips. “Sure.”

 

They walked across the soft carpet with El’s Chucks swishing against it ever-so-quietly. Mike opened the door with a gust of chilly night time wind, watching El flinch. He looked down at her bare arms and the mere cap sleeves of her dress. She began to develop chilled goosebumps.

 

“Oh, here,” he said, looking around for something to cover her, as if it was an instinct. He spotted the only winter coat he owned, draped across a nearby chair, and brought it to her.

 

El shook her head in protest. “No, I’m fine, really.”

 

Mike’s hand traced across her arm slightly, erupting more goosebumps. “You’re freezing.”

 

She chuckled and shook her head again. “You’re wearing a t-shirt too. You wear it.”

 

But Mike wouldn’t budge. “I will not rest until El Hopper puts on this coat.”

 

El’s face softened and she stared at him with a look that Mike couldn’t quite put his finger on. But it swelled his heart and resonated in the pit of his stomach.

 

“Okay, fine.”

  
  
  


The autumn air was chilly and cool and filled Mike’s lungs with a fresh blaze. Puffs of white air escaped from their mouths with every chuckle, every sigh. The neighborhood was silent, save for the chirps of crickets and Mike and El’s shoes walking steadily on the pavement. 

 

They had a conversation about Melvald’s Bakery, the party, and English class, but it was short-lived and left the two basking in each other’s silence. Mike glanced over to his right, taking in El’s moonlit complexion and petiteness drowning in his grey overcoat. None of that lessened her beauty. She looked like a movie star, the dark of the night surrounding her and the moon serving as a spotlight for her, only her. Mike felt like just another spectator.

 

She turned to him suddenly. “Can I ask you a completely random question?”

 

He turned his head up to the inky sky dotted with little silver specks and chuckled. “I like completely random questions.”

 

She looked back down at her feet with her hands jammed in Mike’s big coat pockets. “I noticed… you seem different at home compared to when you’re in public. Like you’re less… worried?”

 

Mike stopped walking, and so did El. He stared at the ground silently for a moment. “Yeah. I kinda hate being in public sometimes.”

 

“Why?”

 

This confused Mike.  _ Someone bothered to know how he felt? _

 

“I dunno. Fear of judgement, I guess. I also have anxiety, so there’s that. Sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you my life story—”

 

“I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.” 

 

“No, no, it’s okay.” he assured. “It’s just…”

 

“Yes?” Her eyes were wide and beautiful.

 

“No one ever really wonders about me. I’m usually the one worrying about others.” There was a long, silent pause. “So, thanks.”

 

El smiled and shook her head. “It’s nothing. We should start heading back, I forgot to call my dad and knowing him, he's probably having a meltdown right about now.” 

 

And so, they began to walk back to Mike’s house quietly. Mike spoke again after a bit. “Maybe I just need that lucky charm sort of person.” El stared at him curiously. He continued. “You know, someone that helps me out of my comfort zone.”

 

El grinned. “I can be your lucky charm.”

  
  



	6. dance with me, wheeler

It was now Friday. For most people, it’s their favorite day of the week.

 

But not for Mike. In fact, he dreaded Fridays, with his father’s shift ending an hour earlier than usual (3 o’clock, the same time Mike gets home) and slamming the front door shut to complain to his wife about the trash not being taken out, or dirty dishes being scattered on the kitchen counter, or just _the most minor fucking inconveniences._

 

Mr. Clarke clapped his hands together, startling Mike. He hadn’t been paying attention in class, which is why confusion struck him when Mr. Clarke said:

 

“You’ll be reading it with a partner, _and_ I’ve decided to give you the liberty to pick on your own. Don’t make me regret it.” Before plopping on the chair behind his desk and cracking open the thickest book Mike had ever seen.

 

 _Read what? Partners?_ Mike turned to Lucas and Dustin, who were already analyzing the papers before them, cracking stupid jokes and giggling like school girls. They looked up at Mike, whose eyes were almost boring into their souls, and smiled slyly. “I don’t think El has a partner yet.” Lucas offered, followed by a wink from Dustin.

 

He was right, as Mike looked up to find El, who looked prettier than ever, awkwardly shuffling through aisles in search of a partner; not knowing that the only person she wanted was Mike.

 

Ever since the night at the basement, El became fairly close with the party (Except for Will, while sometimes cracking smiles at her jokes and charm, kept a hard exterior). She sat with them at lunch every day, exchanged numbers with them (the first one being Mike), and is even planning a sleepover with Max. _Not that Mike’s jealous._

 

But despite seeing her every day, Mike still becomes nervous and weird and melty around El. Seeing her almost serves as a reminder to Mike that she’s too good for him, they’ll never be together, and loads of other self-deprecating shit.

 

“Mike?”

 

The reminder was now standing in front of Mike’s desk, usual pretty smirk and all, fanning a paper in front of his face.

 

He cleared his throat. “El! Sorry, uh, what?”

 

El chuckled. “Do you wanna be partners?”

 

Mike nodded. “Yeah. Yes. I’d love to.”  


El gave him a funny look. “Okay, weirdo.” Then pulled her chair up next to him and plopped down. “We can just alternate between reading the stanzas.”

 

“Yeah, stanzas, yes,” said Mike. He looked down at their shared paper (trying not to get lost in El’s vanilla perfume due to how close she was now), and his face contorted into more confusion. _Wherefore art thou? Deny thy father?_

 

He looked up into El’s sweet amber eyes. “What are we doing again?”

 

She let out another chuckle. “You been zoned out like that all of class?”

 

“Kinda. Yeah.”

 

El moved closer, her voice now more hushed. “Something on your mind?”

 

Mike felt himself fluster and heat crept onto his cheeks and neck, _probably turning bright pink_ , he thinks.

 

_Yeah. You are. And my stupid dad. But mostly you._

 

“No, just tired.” he said instead. “Sorry.”

 

“No need to say sorry.” said El, offering him a warm and funny smile. They were stuck in a seemingly never-ending gaze before El tore away, eyes on the paper again. “We just have to read this confusing bit from Romeo and Juliet, and then answer the questions on the back.”

 

_Out of all things, Romeo and Juliet._

  
  
  


“Question one, why is it significant that Romeo compares Juliet to the sun? What does it symbolize?” El read off the paper with a playful hint to her tone, tapping her blue pen to her chin rhythmically.

 

“Um,” Mike started. “Maybe because… because she resembles a light in his life? Like nothing really stands out in his life, and Juliet shows up, and she just makes everything worth it. I guess.”

 

A beat passed. El nodded slowly, scribbled down an answer, and cleared her throat. “Um, question two,” she started. “What does Romeo mean when he says ‘the brightness of her cheek would shame those stars’?”

 

“Maybe it means… her face is so bright it outshines all of her surroundings.” This made Mike think back to the other night, where they took a walk outside and the moon was shining on El beautifully. Or outside the movies, when the street lights illuminated her. Or when the neon lights of the theater bathed her in red.

 

Or right now, where she sat facing the courtyard window, the daylight hitting her wide eyes and soft lips.

 

“Outshines… all of her... surroundings…” El muttered to herself, not aware that Mike’s gaze was settled on her. “Okay. Question three—”

 

Then the bell rang.

 

“Hold on, hold on!” Mr. Clarke yelled over the rowdy crowd of students that were beginning to shuffle out the door. They groaned in protest, but stood impatiently as he got his final words out.

 

“I expect this assignment to be finished by _Monday!_ Whether that means talking to your partner over the phone or meeting outside of school, get it done by Monday! Have a great…” By now they were all gone, save for Mike, El, Lucas and Dustin. “...Weekend.”

  


______________________________________________

  
  


“Two coffees, extra sugar and milk.” said Mike, thoughtfully handing both cups to a tall, elderly man. The man did nothing but nod and offer a small smile, then slipped out of the busy Saturday afternoon line at Melvald’s to reveal yet another customer.

 

El.

 

She stepped up to the counter with a smirk, holding up their English assignment from the day before. “Figured we could work on it here.”

 

Mike shot her a grin. It never failed to baffle him that the prettiest girl he’s ever seen wants anything to do with _him._ “Cool.” But his smile suddenly dropped as he checked his watch. _4:58._

 

“You okay?” Her eyebrows crinkled and her cherry-tinted lips pursed into a concerned pout.

 

“Yeah, it’s just... I have to close up shop soon?"

 

“Oh.” El said. “We could do it at your house?”

 

The words hit Mike like cold ice. _His house._ His mind wandered back to late last night, when he could hear his mother scolding his father downstairs, something about him talking to another woman on the phone. Or this morning, when Mike’s father dropped his _#1 Dad_ mug on the kitchen floor and it shattered, followed by his mother yelling that she “had to clean the mess up” and how he “ruined Mike’s special gift”. It’s not like Mike had cared anyway.

 

_There was no way El was coming to his house today._

 

“Actually, yeah, let’s do it here. I’m sure Benny won’t mind. Just give me a minute to sort the cash register.” Mike offered with a smile.

 

El nodded. “Also…”

 

“One strawberry strudel?” said Mike, his palms pressed against the counter.

 

She smiled at Mike in a way that made him question whether he was dreaming or not. “One strawberry strudel.”

  
  
  


“Okay, okay,” El managed to get out in between hysterical laughter. “But if you _had_ to pick between licking a telephone pole or park bench, what would it be?”

 

“I told you! Neither!” Mike exclaimed, his face bright pink from their humorous, pointless exchange. It was now nearing 8 o’clock and soft purple clouds were swirling against the backdrop of a dark evening sky. The lights in the bakery were on and it was silent, save for Mike, El, and the shop music playing easily. Mike wasn’t sure how Benny was convinced so easily that he could close the shop later than usual, but he wasn’t complaining in the slightest.

 

After a few more pushes, El finally got an answer out of Mike. “Fine, telephone pole.”

 

“Smart answer.” El said with her pen pointed to him, one leg propped up on the table. She wore a light pink sweater tucked into some old jeans that were cuffed at the ends, and her punk boots. Mike looked down at his own outfit in embarrassment. Same stupid Melvald’s uniform; blue button-up and nametag and all.

 

Mike checked his watch as El began working on the next question of the dreaded Romeo and Juliet assignment (taking a moment to just take a look at her first, all focused and pretty without even trying). It was getting late, and he realized he hadn’t bothered to call his parents about his whereabouts. Not that they probably even noticed, wrapped up in some chatter with Holly about her school or fighting over how much Ted watches TV. “I didn’t even tell my parents where I am right now.” he said anyways.

 

El chuckled but her eyes remained on the paper. “Yeah, me neither.”

 

Mike stared on at her. “What are your parents like? Strict or cool?”

 

A switch seemed to suddenly flip on, or off, inside El. Her wrist stopped scribbling and she looked up at Mike. “What?”

 

“Your parents?” Mike started, a bit more cautious now. “I mean, I know Hopper is, well, _Hopper_ , but what about your mom?”

 

She blinked at him and, if it wasn’t for the soft 70s rock playing, you could hear a pin drop in the room. “I don’t… live with my mom. Not anymore, at least.”

 

Mike instantly felt like shit. “Oh. I’m sorry—”

 

“No, it’s okay. Really.” El said in her best attempt to brush the situation off, nodding and smiling. “I don’t mind it, I like living with Hop better anyways. She’s kinda dead to me.” Her face immediately fell. “I mean, not dead to me like I wish she was dead! Dead to me like I don’t mind not living with her. She’s my mom, of course I sometimes miss her but—”

 

“El.” said Mike, instinctively placing his hand on top of hers. It was cold. When he realized what he had done, he pulled it away quickly and placed it in his lap, fidgeting with a loose thread on his pants.

 

_Jesus, Wheeler. Go ahead and kiss her, why don’t you?_

 

“I understand.” he started again after a beat of silence.

 

El looked up from her lap, her usual outer shell now peeled away to reveal a more vulnerable El. “You do?”

 

“Totally. Not everyone gets along with their parents, trust me, I know. My dad could move to Siberia for a year and I wouldn’t really care.”

 

This made El chuckle and struck Mike with a realization that nothing made him quite as happy as making El laugh. “Thanks, Mike.”

 

“Hey, masking problems with humor is my job.”

 

Then she smiled at him for a long, quiet moment before looking back down at the final question. “Question ten, Romeo and Juliet are fairly young and have known each other for a short amount of time, yet believe they are in love. In your opinion, do you believe this is realistic?”

 

Mike’s eyebrows scrunched up for a minute. As he thought, his gaze settled on El who, too, was sat thinking.

 

_Mike and El had known each other for only a week, yet El was the first person on Mike’s mind when he woke up. Every time Mike saw her, and it’s silly, he felt the world around him dissolve into oblivion and it was just her. Always her. Her vanilla perfume, the way her chocolate curls bounce exuberantly when she walks, the way she draws in a room just by walking in, her smile. God, her smile._

 

The words suddenly spilt out of Mike. “Yeah. I do believe it’s realistic.”

 

El quickly picked up her pencil and scribbled down the last answer haphazardly. “I do… believe… it is… realistic...” Then her head shot up suddenly as if she recognized something. It was the song that had came on, Mike realized, as she stood up. “I love this song!”

 

Her hips and arms began to sway spontaneously to the soft rhythm, and Mike couldn’t bring himself to look away from her. Quite honestly, he didn’t know the tune. It apparently showed since El gave him a glare short after. “Oh, come on. Waterloo Sunset? The Kinks?”

 

Mike shook his head, not knowing anything she was saying. Finally, she extended her hand to him. “Dance with me, Wheeler.”

 

Mike shook his head even more, this time rapidly, nervously. “No, I don’t… I don’t dance…”

 

“Sure you do!” El exclaimed.

 

“R-right… right here?” he said, looking out the window apprehensively to the dark, empty street illuminated by streetlights.

 

“Right now, right here, in the middle of this bakery.”

 

And so Mike did. He took her hand, got in the middle of Melvald’s Bakery, and danced with El Hopper. He was nervous, reserved at first compared to the exuberant, pretty girl in front of him. After a bit, though, he loosened up and danced with El to his heart’s content; mostly to make her laugh.

 

And he was glad he did.

 

_But I don’t, feel afraid_

_As long as I gaze on Waterloo Sunset_

_I am in paradise_  



	7. indianapolis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you guys liked that last chapter! i wanted to add some cute and shy mileven fluff before introducing el's backstory, which is this chapter. so no mileven in chapter 7 (ha, that rhymed), but it'll give you a better understanding as to why el moved to hawkins. enjoy!

 

_ “I mean, I know Hopper is, well, Hopper, but what about your mom?” _

  
  
  


**1 Year Ago**

  
  


El could hear the clacking of her mother’s heels emerge down the stairs and into the foyer. She sighed.

 

“Ellie bean, I’ll be back kind of late tonight so don’t wait up for me, okay?” her voice was soft and low with a slight rasp, and it echoed throughout the small home. 

 

El tore her gaze from the game show playing on TV as she leaned across the sofa, getting a look at her mom, who had been going out quite often those past few weeks. She stood in front of the foyer mirror, adjusting her earrings and fluffing her dirty blonde hair.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“Out. With some co-workers.”

 

El knew that was a lie. She despised her co-workers at the diner. “Again?” she pried.

 

Her mother turned to her. “Yes.” Her tone was colder now.

 

But El wasn’t intimidated. She stretched and groaned in protest like an angsty teenager. “You sure you wanna leave me alone here? Could throw a massive party. Could get kidnapped.” That wasn’t quite out of the ordinary, considering they lived in a not-so-fancy part of the city.

 

The older woman merely shook her head and chuckled, reaching for her coat on the coat rack and slipping it on. “I trust you, baby. Lock the doors and windows and you’ll be fine.” 

 

El watched as her mother undid the front door locks, offering her one last glance. “There’s leftover Chinese takeout in the fridge, heat it up if you get hungry.” Then she disappeared into the chilly night, leaving El alone with the TV. Again.

 

El opened up the fridge and stared at the damned Chinese takeout box with red dragons plastered on the front, something she had recently gotten to know well.  _ Takeout for dinner for the third night in a row? Great. _

 

She popped the frozen food in the microwave and stood in silence, bare feet shifting on the cold, hard tile floor. Her eyes trailed impatiently around the kitchen until they caught on a wooden picture frame on the wall. 

 

Little six-year-old El Hopper sitting in between, at the time, married parents Terry and Jim Hopper. They all wore big smiles and outdated clothing, hence _The_ _Hoppers, 1978_ written at the bottom.

 

El’s eyes began to involuntarily well up. Things were so different now. Her mother had gone back to her maiden name, Terry Ives, after the divorce that shattered eleven-year-old El’s perception of, well, everything. She took up a job at Jo’s Diner to get her mind off things, even though Hopper still sent them a fair amount of money every month, being the chief of police. The working hours at the diner were strange and off-putting, forcing El to step up and be her own caretaker. Terry recently taking up the hobby of going out at night (to bars, El found out) wasn’t making her daughter’s matters any better, either.

 

And her father moved out, back to Hawkins where he grew up. El doesn’t think that Hopper ever got over losing her and Terry. When he visited for El’s birthday the year following the divorce, he was almost unrecognizable: heavier in size, full-blown beard, sleepier eyes and gruffer voice (he had gotten back into smoking); but he still managed to be there for his little girl. Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, and El’s birthday were the only times El got to see him, with the occasional phone calls in between.

 

_ But boy, did she miss him more than ever in those lonely times. _

  
  
  
  


Things didn’t seem to get any better. El’s mother was still going out, the shifts at the diner were getting even weirder (El was beginning to suspect it wasn’t the diner shifts, after all), she could hear her mother late at night talking to somebody on the phone, and she was still left eating takeout for dinner, being accompanied only by the TV (and sometimes her friend who El knew only came over out of pity, Rose).

 

Then one day, Terry brought  _ him  _ home.

 

El unfortunately remembers that day well. It was a Sunday afternoon, and she was sat on the living room sofa trying to teach herself the Geometry homework. 

 

That’s when the door clicked open, followed by shoes clacking on the foyer floor and hushed conversation. El spun around in curiosity, shaking her short brown locks.

 

It was her mother again, in her usual work uniform (a magenta dress with a white apron tied around the waist, and a nametag that read  _ Terry _ ), but this time accompanied by a guest. She never had guests over.

 

It was a man. A tall man, wearing business attire and had pure white hair that was pushed back.

 

Terry led him into the living room by his hand. He had to bend down to enter the opening, but sprung back up to his tall stature when he got in. El looked at her mother in utter confusion, who nodded her head knowingly, then opened her mouth. “Ellie bean, this is Martin.”

 

Martin stepped closer and smiled the most terrifying grin El had ever seen. He was definitely a bit older than her mother, with wrinkles and dryness tracing around every bit of his cold, pale face. His beady, snakelike eyes stared at El insincerely as he said, “Pleased to meet you, El.” 

 

If there was one thing El was good at, it was having gut feelings. And this gut feeling was the worst one she’s ever experienced.

 

“Hi,” El squeaked out. Her gaze went back to her mother, who looked like she was about to burst with pride. Then her gaze traveled lower, lower, until it met with her mother’s left hand. 

 

A huge, shiny diamond rested on her ring finger. El’s heart stopped.

 

“Martin and I are engaged, Ellie bean!”

 

El cried in her bedroom for about two hours that night.

 

_ (“You didn’t think to even mention this random guy to your own daughter before getting engaged to him?” El stage whispered to her mother in the kitchen, just minutes after the news was broken, along with the news that they were apparently going to move into Martin’s fucking mansion. Tears burned at her eyes and down her cheeks.  _

 

_ Martin was left standing alone in the living room but, quite frankly, El didn’t care.  _

 

_ “I really thought you’d be happy for me, El.” Terry repeated for the second time, her tired, hazel eyes narrowing in anger. _

 

_ “Why didn’t you tell me?” The cold words hung in the air, lone for several moments. _

 

_ “Because I thought you were just too young to understand.” _

 

_ Bullshit, El thought. Too young to understand what? Her voice grew volumes louder, letting go of any cares that he could hear them. “I’m sixteen for fuck’s sake, mom!” _

 

_ The older woman’s eyes widened. “El Jane Ives, don’t use that language with me.” _

 

_ This made El’s blood run cold. She began to yell. “Hopper, mom! El Jane Hopper! Named after the man who actually gives two shits about me, even if I only see him four times a fucking year!” _

 

_ Silence. _

 

_ “How could you say that?” _

 

_ “How could I not? You never tried to play an active role in my life ever since dad left!” _

 

_ “Your father is a lowlife. I’m trying to give us both a better opportunity by moving in with—” _

 

_ “I am not moving in with him. Never. Not in a million fucking years. I don’t care how rich he is. I don’t care that he’s a scientist. I don’t care how many stories his fucking mansion has.” _

 

_ More silence. Then, “Fine.” _

 

_ El looked at her. “What?” _

 

_ “You don’t have to move in with him. But I am.” _

 

_ El stared on at her cold, lifeless face. “I don’t understand.” _

 

_ Terry’s arms were crossed and her eyes remained focused on the tile floor, like she couldn’t bare looking her daughter in the face when she said: “I’m moving to his place next Sunday... so you have one week... to find accommodations.” _

 

_ The words dropped on El like an atomic bomb. Her own mother preferred a man she had met merely a month ago to her daughter. All those years, she never really loved El. Only wanted to fill the Hopper-sized void in her heart. Now it was all clear. _

 

_ The five minutes El stood in that kitchen in complete shock, elbows resting on the counter behind her in fear of collapsing, felt like an eternity. Finally, her voice quivered out. “Okay.”) _

 

El’s vision was blurry and her eyes became red from the constant tears flowing out, accumulating into a pool on her bedsheets. Her bedroom was dark, save for the soft orange glow of her nightstand lamp. 

 

She was only sixteen years old, for fuck’s sake. Where was she gonna stay? Was she gonna become homeless? Should she just suck it up and move in with her mother and Martin?

 

_ No. Fuck no. _

 

Suddenly a thought emerged in El’s mind. She ran to her dresser mirror and quickly wiped her tears, gazing back at her reflection. Her face was red and puffy, her hair was a chocolatey mess, and her loose Queen tee was slipping off one shoulder. But none of that mattered, as she grabbed her coat and peered out her window.

 

As always, there it was. The  _ 24/7 LAUNDROMAT  _ sign from across the street lit up the surrounding darkness with its blue glow, slightly flickering on and off. Just next to the little building stood the telephone pole that El always used, when she secretly wanted to talk to boys without her mother hearing.

 

But that day, she was going to use it for a different reason.

  
  
  
  


The walk to the laundromat was chilly and quick, as El managed to get there in less than a minute. She stopped just in front of the telephone and began to punch in the phone number, flinching from how cold the metal keys were.

 

Then she held the earpiece to her ear and hoped, prayed the other line would pick up.

 

But it just rang. It rang, and rang, and rang.

 

“Please, please,” she muttered, her other hand jammed in her coat pocket.

 

Then suddenly a clicking noise emerged from the other end. “Hello?” The voice was gruff and hoarse; just like El remembered.

 

She practically did a mix of a sigh and a chuckle, out of relief. “Dad… hi. It’s me.” She wiped another fallen tear. “It’s El.”

 

He was silent at first, but then El could practically hear him smiling and getting up from bed. “El?”

 

“Yes.” The wind bit fiercely at her face and eyes, but she didn’t seem to notice nor care.

 

“Kid, I missed hearing your voice. So much. Every time I tried calling your home phone, your mother told me you didn’t want to talk to me.” He chuckled hysterically through suppressed tears.

 

_ So that’s why he hadn’t called in forever. _ El’s resentment towards her mother grew, and the tears trickled down even more. “She was lying, dad.”

 

“What?” Hopper inquired, his protective side beginning to show even over the phone.

 

“Sh-she was lying.” Her words came out in blubbers and quivers. “About e-everything. Sh-she never loved m-me, dad.”

 

The silence on his end bubbled like lava. Then, “Where are you right now, kid?”

 

“L-laundromat.” she sniffled. “Across the street.”

 

“Stay there.” he said without hesitation, his voice shaking with anger. “Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”

 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so what did we think about the first angsty/emotional chapter? 
> 
> i know this one was kinda sad, but i promise more fluffy mileven and happy el in the future chapters :)


	8. palm lines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait! i've been planning the rest of this fic and i'm very excited for you guys to see the rest of the story unravel (it's gonna be a rather long fic, i've decided!) but here's chapter 8 right now :)
> 
> i apologize in advance for the ending...

 

 

El’s black Chucks stood on the patchy front lawn of the Mayfield residence, duffel bag in hand. She could almost hear Max’s high-pitched yet boyish voice saying, “It’s the first house when you turn the corner to Old Cherry Road. You can’t miss it, Hopper.” across the lunch table to El earlier that day.

 

She couldn’t miss it, indeed. The cream-colored siding had a strange, almost graffiti-like stain plastered on the side of the house, one of the windows was cracked at the corner, creating a spiraling spider-web design; and the dinky front mailbox was bent and cocked to one side. Maybe someone did it in a fit of rage. Maybe the garbage truck backed into it a little too much. Maybe Max ran into it during one of her skate sessions. _All are plausible._

 

Not to mention, it was a lot smaller than El had pictured. Max was from California, and from what El had seen of Californians on TV, they were either:

 

  1. Rich
  2. Famous
  3. Trust fund kids



 

But it was still a home nonetheless, and El was thrilled to have a sleepover with the only girl among the majority of boys in her still-fairly-new friend group, or rather “the party”, as they call it.

 

(Although one boy still lingered in her mind. She wondered what he was up to on that Friday afternoon, maybe with his friends or spending alone time in his room, listening to music and just being himself, _without fear of judgement._ )

 

“Are you gonna come in, or…”

 

El had been so caught up in her own thoughts that she didn’t even realize walking up the slope and ringing the doorbell. An expectant Max stood at the door smirking at her, fiery red locks pulled up in a ponytail and an oversized sweatshirt thrown over her school clothes. El grinned and offered a quick, “Hey, sorry,” before inviting herself in.

 

The living room was small and stuffy, with a plain couch and box TV. Just next to it was an equally small and stuffy kitchen; and a short hallway of bedrooms.

 

“I know it’s a dump compared to Mike’s house, and probably yours too,” Max chuckled, watching El slip her shoes off in the foyer.

 

El hugged her duffel bag to her chest and shook her head. “I live in a cabin in the woods, so this is more than fine.”

 

Max’s blue eyes widened. “Really? But your dad…”

 

El nodded her head knowingly. “He doesn’t get paid as much as people think he does. And the cabin was his dad’s so he just likes it there, I guess. So do I.”

 

Max grinned. “You’ll have to invite us over one day.” By ‘us’, she also meant Mike. El wasn’t sure if she wanted Mike to see her place yet, considering its… _interesting circumstances._

 

“Come on, let’s go to my room,” Max said, grabbing El’s bag and making a run toward the hallway. El followed behind. She already knew which one was Max’s room, thanks to a _Do Not Disturb_ sign with a skull plastered on the front of one door. Sure enough, that’s the one Max went for.

 

Max’s room was nice and quaint. It had orange walls, like her hair, and a wooden bed with dark green bedspread and mismatched pillows. One wall had a large bulletin board, where dozens of pictures of Max with the party (mostly Lucas) were tacked on.

 

El opened her mouth to say something when muffled rock music emerged from across the hall. She turned to see the closed door almost vibrating from the volume.

 

Max sighed loudly and went to slam her door shut, perhaps in hopes of the person in the other room to hear, then turned to shoot El an apologetic look. “Sorry, I forgot to tell you my dick of a stepbrother is here, too.”

 

“I didn’t know you had a stepbrother.” said El.

 

“Wish I didn’t.” Max muttered and plopped on her bed. El continued perusing the room.

 

Eventually, her eyes went back to the bulletin board.

 

The party seemed like they knew each other since birth. There were pictures of them on several Fourth of Julys, family barbecues, New Year’s Eves, and pool parties. El’s eyes kept gravitating to Mike. Mike laughing while being splashed by Dustin in the pool, Mike’s first day at Melvald’s Bakery with Max and Lucas, and Mike on New Year’s Eve sporting wacky _1985_ sunglasses. El smiled to herself.

 

But, undeniably, most of the photos were of Max and Lucas. “You really love him.” she said, eyes still trained on the bulletin.

 

“What?” said Max.

 

El turned around. “Lucas. You really love him.”

 

“Oh.” Max grinned. “Yeah, I do.”

 

“How long have you guys been together?” El now plopped on the bed too, resting on her stomach and chin in her hands.

 

“Since seventh grade.” the redhead said, looking off to the side in an almost reminiscent way. “He was the first boy in Hawkins that didn’t totally disgust me.”

 

El chuckled. _She felt the same way about Mike._

 

After a moment and what looked like a bit of hesitation, Max scooted closer and gave El a look that looked like she was about to ask El if she was interested in joining her bank heist. But instead, she said: “Okay, you can be completely honest with me. You two are secretly dating, right?”

 

El practically choked on air. “What?”

 

“Which base are you guys on?”

 

El laughed nervously. “Max, I have no idea what you’re—”

 

“Come on, I won’t tell anyone!” Max nagged. “Lucas and I are on second base—”

 

“Woah, woah, woah!” El exclaimed, covering her ears. “I don’t need to know that!”

 

Max flopped down on her back and uproared in a fit of laughter, her pale face turning bright pink. She reached up to move El’s hands away from her ears. “Sorry,” she mustered through giggles. “I thought you’d tell me if I told you. Secret for a secret.”

 

“Tell you _what?!_ ” El said hopelessly. Now she was _really_ confused.

 

Max’s smile dropped and her eyes widened. She sat up on the bed again, matching El’s eye level. “You really don’t know what I’m talking about?”

 

“No,” El laughed helplessly. “I really don’t.”

 

A smile crept on the redhead’s lips. “You and Mike. The two of you are dating under the radar, right?”

 

El’s heart dropped down to her stomach when the words left Max’s mouth. Her face fell and remained blank. _Was El’s crush on Mike that obvious? Why did Max assume they were dating? Oh, how El dreams about dating Mike, kissing Mike, borrowing Mike’s clothes that would be too big on her but she wouldn’t care, whispering to Mike_ —A million thoughts raced in her mind at once, but all she could muster was: “No?”

 

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

 

Max stared at her in suspicion. “That’s not very convincing.”

 

After an awkward moment of silence, El finally surrendered, grabbing one of Max’s pillows and burying her face into it.

 

“I knew it!” Max laughed, but stopped and stared in confusion when El looked up at her from the pillow with a deadpan expression, her mascara and cherry lip gloss now slightly smudged.

 

“Are… you okay?”

 

El took in a deep breath. _Here goes nothing._ “I like Mike. I like him so much, Max, it’s not even funny. The second I stepped into Melvald’s Bakery I _knew_ I liked him. And now I don’t know what to do or how to deal with it or—”

 

“Hey, hey,” Max interrupted, grabbing onto her friend’s shoulders. “I know.”

 

El blinked. “You do?”

 

“Anyone with half a brain could figure it out.” said Max, causing a slight smile to creep onto El’s lips. “And guess what?”

 

“What?”

 

“Anyone with _no_ brain could figure out that Mike likes you, too.” Max smiled. “The boy’s terrible at hiding things.”

 

El’s breath caught in her throat. _No way._ “You really think he does?”

 

Max nodded vigorously like it was an obvious question. El just stared on, unable what to think or how to process anything. _Mike. Likes. El._

 

“But you’re way out of that nerd’s league—” Max started, but was cut off by El pulling her into a hug.

 

“Can we keep this between us?” she said into Max’s shoulder.

 

The redhead pulled away and wrapped her pinkie finger around El’s. “I’m pretty fucking great at keeping secrets.”

 

The comfortable silence in the room was broken when Max’s nightstand telephone began ringing loudly. She sighed and reached over for it. “Probably my dumb stepdad.”

 

But when she put the earpiece up to her ear, her annoyance instantly turned into excitement. “Hey, oh my god, hi.” When El perked up, Max put the earpiece to her shoulder and whispered, “Lucas.”

 

El grinned. After a few, “Yeahs”, “Uh-huhs”, and “Totallys”, Max covered the earpiece again and leaned closer to an expectant El. “The guys are all at Will’s house but they want us to come over,” she explained. “You in? I love crashing their stupid ‘boys only’ sleepovers.”

 

El sat up. “What, like, now?”

 

Max nodded and, as if being able to read her mind, she added, “Mike’s gonna be there.”

 

El grabbed the pillow again, using it to hit her friend’s shoulder. Max chuckled. “So you’re in?”

 

Without thinking any further, El simply nodded. Max picked up the phone again. “We’ll be there.” A beat. “Love you too.”

 

And that was that. Or so El thought.

 

“Hey, can you get Mike on the phone real quick?” Max added suddenly.

 

El’s eyes widened. “What are you doing?” she stage whispered.

 

But Max was still occupied on the phone, sneaking a few teasing glances at El. “Just get him on the phone, please. El wants to talk to him.”

 

El moved her hand across her neck in a slicing motion. _No, no, no._

 

Max just giggled, then handed the phone to El after a moment. El threw it back to Max. Max threw it back to El.

 

“Why would you do that?” El said, tossing it back.

 

“Come on, just say hi!” Max teased, firmly putting it back in El’s hands. _Poor Mike, all he could probably hear on the other end was shuffling and whispering._

 

El glared at her and slowly lifted the earpiece to her ear. “Hello?”

 

“Hey.” said Mike, his voice just as adorable over the phone. “You wanted to, uh... talk to me?”

 

_El liked him so much._

 

“Yeah, um…” El started, searching her mind for something to say and simultaneously cursing Max. “Just wanted to say hi.”

 

_‘Hi’? Really, El?_

 

“Oh, um, hi.” he said, his voice sounding soft even over the static. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah, I’m fine!” El assured, her eyes squeezed shut from embarrassment.

 

“Okay.” he said, chuckling softly. Probably because this conversation has been fucking idiotic. Suddenly, muffled shouting emerged from the line. “Hey, the guys are fighting over the Atari so I’m gonna go,” Mike started. “But I’ll see you soon?”

 

“Yeah.” said El softly. “See you soon.”

 

When he hung up, El put the phone back on the hook and glared at Max, whose face was bright pink from trying to hold in laughter.  

 

______________________________________________

  


The walk to Will’s house took a mere ten minutes, and when El and Max reached, duffel bags in hand, the sky had grown darker.

 

El stared at the house. It was small and old, with a rickety garden swing swaying on the porch, and a clothesline with several hand-me-downs pinned to it in the front yard. She felt a slight shudder travel down her body; the sight reminded her so much of her home back in Indianapolis.

 

_(And she was nervous to set foot in the home of the boy who still kind of hates her, for reasons which El still didn’t know.)_

 

El took a slight gulp and followed Max, who was already bolting up to the front door and knocking on it obnoxiously.

 

The doorknob twisted open to reveal a messy-haired Will, sporting a sweatshirt and shorts. His lips were pulled into a grin at the sight of Max, but quickly dropped when he noticed a sheepish El behind her.

 

“Hi.” he said.

 

“Hey Willy,” Max enthused, already inviting herself in. “El and I came to interrupt your little nerd orgy.”

 

“Great.” Will muttered, shooting El a quick look as an apathetic way to say ‘come in’. Gripping her bag nervously, El offered him a close-mouthed smile and stepped inside, making sure to rub her shoes on the welcome mat.

 

The inside was small, yet cozy, with the soft orange light of lamps soaking the living room entrance in warmth. Sat on one of the stuffy couches was an older, frail woman with brown hair, smoking a cigarette. She seemed blank, expressionless, staring off into space.

 

“That’s my mom.” Will said shyly.

 

At those words, she looked up at the three teenagers and smiled. “Oh, hey, sweeties.”

 

“Hi, Ms. Byers.” Max said sheepishly. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were here. I didn’t mean the whole orgy thing.”

 

Will smacked Max’s arm. The woman chuckled and shook her head, then offered El a kind look, putting out her cigarette in an ashtray. “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Joyce.”

 

“El.” the 17-year-old said with a smile. “Hopper.” she added after a beat.

 

Joyce stared at her, dumbfounded. “Hopper.” she repeated breathlessly. It seemed as if she wanted to say something else, but before she could, shouts emerged from a room in the hallway, startling everyone.

 

“We’re gonna go.” Will announced, leading the girls to the source of the noise. El followed, sneaking one last glance over her shoulder to Joyce. _Did El say something wrong?_

 

But any anxious thoughts El had escaped her mind as soon as Will opened the door to his room. There was the party, all sprawled out on the dark blue comforter of Will’s bed, in the middle of some stupid, humorous exchange. But that’s not what caused the butterflies in El’s stomach to flutter.

 

There was Mike, laying on his back and running a hand through his dark hair, his forest green sweater riding up his stomach and revealing an expanse of his pale skin.

 

El pried her eyes away from the sight quickly, inviting herself into the room and placing her bag on the ground as quietly as possible.

 

“Hello mothafuckas!” Max yelled, the polar opposite of El, slamming the door shut. Mike’s head raised a bit to acknowledge her, then his gaze traveled until it met with El’s. Eyes widening, he quickly sat up and fumbled with the hem of his shirt, his face turning pinker by the second. “Hey. Hi.”

 

_He was so cute._

 

“Hi.” El chuckled and, for the first time, she felt herself getting shy, looking down at the ground instead of Mike Wheeler.

 

______________________________________________

  


Mike had been to mixed sex sleepovers in the past ( _Well, by mixed sex he meant the boys plus Max, but that was besides the point_ ). Which is why anxiety struck him like lightning when Lucas announced he had invited Max and El to their boys-only night.

 

_Sleeping in the same room as El Hopper, no fucking biggie._

 

“Couldn’t stay away from your girlfriend for five seconds?” Mike snapped after he hung up the phone. El had been on the other line. _El, El, El._ She wanted to talk to _Mike_ , for reasons the boy couldn’t put his finger on.

 

“Hey now, Wheeler.” Lucas started, grabbing a slice of pizza from the greasy box sitting on the Byers’ dining table. “Thought you’d be glad El’s coming.”

 

Mike scoffed. _Of course he was glad El was coming. This exact scenario had been taking up Mike’s dreams for the past month now. But now that it was actually happening? That the prettiest girl in Indiana was making her way over now, duffel bag in hand, probably wearing that vanilla perfume that made him all dizzy? Mike wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole._

 

“Sure I’m glad.” Mike said finally. “It’s just…”

 

Lucas eyed him suspiciously. It was just the two of them standing around in the small dining room, the rest of the boys making inordinate amounts of noise back in Will’s room. “It’s just what?”

 

 _Shit,_ Mike thought. _Blew his cover._ He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, making eye contact with anything _but_ Lucas. “Nothing. Nevermind.”

 

Lucas took another bite of his pizza, smirking. “You know we’ve been friends since we were six, right?”

 

Mike tore his gaze away from his Nikes and peered up at him. “Yes?”

 

“Meaning you know I can tell when you’re lying, right?”

 

Mike sighed, knocking his head back to stare up at the popcorn ceiling. “I know.”

 

Lucas remained silent, still eyeing him. Mike knew his friend wouldn’t budge until he told him the truth. So he steadied his breath and began. “Remember when she first came into Melvald’s? And she ordered that strawberry strudel? And I was such a fucking _dick_ to her at first—sorry, we’re closed!”

Lucas smiled and nodded reminiscently.

 

“But she still came back the next day. And she told me her name. And… and ever since then, I liked El Hopper. Shit, I like El Hopper so much, Lucas. Wow,” Mike laughed. “I like her so much. Man, I wish I could just _tell_ her how beautiful she is without being a fucking loser—”

 

“Hey,” said Lucas. “You’re not a loser.”

 

“Compared to her I am.” Mike sighed. “She’s out of my league.”

 

Lucas shook his head. “If she’s so out of your league, then why does she always make an effort to talk to you, huh?”

 

Mike blinked. He hated whenever Lucas was right, which was often. “What are you trying to say?”

 

“I’m trying to say she likes you back, man!” the Ranger enthused.

 

Mike just laughed and shook his head. _Not in a million years._ But instead of being more self-deprecating, he smiled at his friend. “Just… please don’t tell the others, okay?”

 

Lucas did a lip-zipping motion and patted the Paladin on the back, making his way back to Will’s room. Mike followed behind, a jittery feeling overtaking him.

 

_It was out. His feelings for El were out. To one person, yes, but they were out._

 

______________________________________________

  


_God she was so pretty_ , her hair down in its usual curly mess and a cardigan pulled over her dress, perusing Will’s room. His art competition trophies, pictures of the party, record collection. Mike could watch El for hours.

 

Suddenly she turned to Mike from across the room with a smile and a photo in her hand, and Mike not-so-swiftly tried to pretend he hadn’t just been gawking at her.

 

“I fail to believe this is you.” she said, coming up to sit on the edge of the bed next to him, their thighs brushing together ever-so-softly. Mike leaned in closer to her to view the photo, drinking in her (sure enough) vanilla perfume.

 

In her hand was a polaroid of nerdy Mike, Will, Lucas and Dustin after winning the fifth grade science fair. That was Mike’s “frog face” phase, and he internally cringed at the fact that El had now seen it. “I look like a dork.” he said, burying his face in his hands.

 

“A cute dork.” El added. Mike looked at her, perplexed, and they shared a small smile. She was so close to him. Her rosy nose, brown eyes and pink lips that Mike could so easily kiss right now.

 

“El!” Dustin’s brash voice tore between the two, causing them to jump apart slightly. Mike internally cursed him, awkwardly picking at a loose thread on the duvet.

 

“Yeah?” El said, getting up to join Dustin, who was flipping through a book on Will’s dresser.

 

“If you think _that_ photo was bad, take a look at Mike’s yearbook picture from ‘83.” the curly haired boy enthused.

 

Mike’s eyes widened, and he practically bolted across the room to tear them apart. “No thanks!” he yelled, trying to grab the book from Dustin. “I don’t think she’s interested!”

 

“Actually, I’m very interested!” El laughed, also battling for the book.

 

That was how most of the night went.

 

(Mike fakes a yawn, attempting to put his arm around El during _Ferris Bueller’s Day Off._

 

“Popcorn?” Max interrupts, passing the buttery bucket to them. His arm jerks away.

 

El fixes a strand of Mike’s hair, his eyes staring at her adorably focused face as she does it.

 

“El, wanna hear my Clash mixtape?” Will interrupts, holding up his boombox stereo. Her attention is reverted.

 

Mike and El are finally in the hallway, alone. They’re talking.

 

Lucas interrupts, running out of the bedroom and loudly throwing up in the bathroom. _He had too much to drink._ They jump and hurry over to help him.)

 

That is, until everyone winded down for bed, AKA 1 in the morning. Mike quickly changed to a soft tee and shorts, then joined the party back in the room.

 

The room was dark with sleeping bags scattered across the carpet. Lucas and Max took the bed, making Mike quietly scoff. He stepped carefully, making sure not to crush Dustin or Will’s head.

 

And then he realized the only empty sleeping bag layed next to a sleepy El.

 

_Shit, shit, shit._

 

Mike took a deep breath and layed down as quietly as he could, trying his best not to wake her up. A large lump formed in his throat and nervous goosebumps snaked across his arms. He kept his back flat on the floor and his eyes glued to the ceiling, not daring to look in El’s direction. He could hear her breathing, soft and steady, and it echoed in his ears.

 

Suddenly he heard shifting, and her voice began to whisper. “Hey.”

 

He flinched. Then, nervously, he turned his head to the side to see if he was dreaming or not.

 

It wasn’t a dream. There El was, the moonlight from the window bathing her face in dark blue and making her eyes sparkle, her head turned to Mike with a smile. Her hair was dark and inky against the white pillow, curling in every direction like vines. Mike had never seen anyone or anything more beautiful.

 

“Hi.” was all he could bring himself to whisper back.

 

El’s smile grew and, in that moment, Mike wanted to thank the moon for illuminating her. “I can’t sleep.” she said.

 

“Me neither.” he agreed. If it wasn’t for El Hopper laying next to him, maybe Mike could have slept. But he wasn’t upset. He’d lose all his sleep for her if he had to.

 

“Do you wanna talk?” she said softly, making sure not to awaken the others.

 

He grinned. “About what?”

 

“Anything.”

 

So they did. They talked for hours and hours on end, and Mike didn’t yawn or feel his eyelids grow heavy even once. They talked about college, about heaven and hell, about if they ever wanted a family, and about aliens.

 

“I do think there are other forms of life outside of Earth,” El explained, her voice still at a whisper. “But I don’t think they’re green or slimy or anything.”

 

Mike chuckled. “Me too. I think it’d be more terrifying if we were alone in this universe.”

 

El nodded, staring back up at the ceiling. Mike admired her silhouette for a moment, the way the blue light traced her nose and lips and chin. Then she turned back to him abruptly. “Let me see your hand.”

 

Mike hesitated but obliged, lifting his hand from under the duvet and showing her. She took it gently with her own hand, then faced it palm-side-up. With her index finger, she slowly began to trace over the lines on his hand. Mike sighed slightly at her touch.

 

“Everyone’s palm lines are unique.” she said.

 

“Oh yeah?” Mike inquired. “Let me see yours.”

 

El faced her palm up, and he slowly traced her lines. There were three.

 

Then he stopped, and they sat up and stared at each other under the moonlight, everything around them silent, save for the soft snores of the others. The tension between them was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

 

Then slightly, ever-so-slightly, El inched closer.

 

Mike inched closer.

 

El inched closer.

 

Mike inched closer. He could feel her breath against him now.

 

A loud, throaty snore emerged from Dustin. The two jumped apart yet again.

 

El cleared her throat, flustered. “I, um,”

 

“Sorry,” Mike whispered. “I don’t, I don’t know—”

 

“Oh, no, you’re fine,” she waved off, then reverted her attention down to her clothes, the same cardigan and dress. “I haven’t even changed into my pajamas yet, I should probably—”

 

“Yeah, no, of course. Don’t wanna be uncomfortable.” he assured.

 

El smiled at him gratefully, her hand on his knee. After what looked like a hesitant, remorseful look, she stood up and grabbed her nearby duffel bag, pulling out a tank top and sweatpants.

 

Mike sat watching as she unbuttoned her cardigan, slipping it off her shoulders. Then she turned back to him with a smirk, cocking her head to one side. “Turn around, Wheeler.” she whispered.

 

Mike blushed and turned to face the wall, the moonlight now illuminating his face.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, sorry about the ending. i SWEAR it's gonna happen in the story soon!! but nonetheless i hope you all enjoyed this chapter. :)


	9. halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone, new chapter! this concept has been in my mind ever since i started this fic, so i'm very excited to finally put it out!
> 
> also, i'm sure while reading this you'll notice it seems a bit familiar. that's because it's inspired by episode 2 of stranger things 2!
> 
> enjoy! :)
> 
> ***underaged drinking in this chapter***

 

 

Mike Wheeler has a complicated relationship with Halloween.

 

The past few years he would just stay home, passing out candy to the local kids (full-size chocolate bars and Reese’s cups, all the good stuff) and watching shitty horror movies on TV. That was the norm every October 31st, ever since _the incident._

 

(By _the incident_ , he means pissing himself in his Taran from _The Black Cauldron_ costume, at the ninth grade school Halloween party.

 

And yes, the party never fails to bring it up every year.)

 

But the norm was now changing by none other than El Hopper.

 

_(“I won’t let you stay home this Halloween. It’s unacceptable.” she said to Mike last Friday in the hallway, textbooks pressed to her chest as Mike rummages through his locker. She looked extra pretty that day._

 

_“I’ll be fine. You have fun with the party this weekend, okay? Don’t worry about me.” Mike assures her, finally finding his Chemistry textbook and shutting his locker. They begin walking side-by-side down the hall, El’s shoulder brushing against his._

 

_“Why are you so against Halloween, anyway?” she says. Mike’s heart stops. There is no way in hell El Hopper finds out about the incident._

 

_“Bad experience.” he says simply, not daring to make eye contact with her because he’s a shitty liar._

 

_El suddenly stops in her tracks and stares up at him. He returns the gaze, his cheeks becoming hot because her brown eyes are piercing into his and it makes his knees feel like fucking jello._

 

_“Then I’m determined to make this the best Halloween for you. Promise.” she says, putting up her pinkie finger._

 

_Mike can’t even begin to form words at this, his mouth opening and closing. “I, um, I dunno.”_

 

 **_Stupid, stupid, stupid_ ** _, Mike thinks._ **_The prettiest girl ever is asking you to go to a party with her. Just say yes._ **

 

_“Come on, you said you’ve never been to a real Halloween party before.” El pleads, her big eyes staring at him like a puppy dog._

 

_He nods defeatedly._

 

_“Neither have I!” she exclaims. “It’d be so fun if we went together.” A beat. She considers what she just said. “With the rest of the party, of course.”_

 

**_Together._ **

 

_So that’s why Mike agrees to change things up this year. For El._

 

_And he wraps his pinkie finger around hers.)_

 

______________________________________________

 

The party agreed to get ready at Dustin’s house the following Saturday, since he’s the only one with a car.

 

Mike only caught a glimpse of El before she and Max disappeared with a fit of giggles into the bathroom, hogging it for the next couple hours to get ready.

 

Meaning he _really_ had to go to the bathroom. Along with everyone else.

 

“Jesus, guys, can you unlock the door already?” Lucas yelled, pounding on the door. He was dressed as Johnny from _Dirty Dancing,_ sporting an all-black tank top, jeans, and boots. He looked so cool, you never would’ve guessed he’s a total dork that belongs to the AV Club. “I’m about to pee all over Dustin’s carpet!”

 

“ _Not the carpet!_ ” Dustin interjected with a finger pointed at him. Fake, bruised pieces of skin hung off his face, looking like some sort of zombie. Or a house fire victim. Mike’s not really sure.

 

Laughter emerged from the bathroom. “Go in a cup!” Max yelled. More laughter.

 

Lucas sighed, hitting the door one more time before turning back around in defeat, his legs squeezed together.

 

Will, dressed as Marty McFly (red puffer vest, flannel, old jeans), jokingly grabbed an empty water bottle off Dustin’s nightstand and offered it to the Ranger with a smirk, earning a piercing glare from him.

 

Mike rolled his eyes at this before turning back to Dustin’s smudged-up mirror, adjusting his vest and leather holster belt, rolling up his sleeves a bit, running a hand through his hair to fluff it up. Gaze traveling up to his face. Messily dotted freckles and wide eyes.

 

_Smuggler. Scoundrel. Hero. Mike Wheeler as Han Solo._

 

He feels a bit stupid staring back at his reflection, though, having not dressed up in two years, suddenly feeling childish for doing so. Insecurity begins overtaking him, but he quickly swallows the lump in his throat because he remembers. He remembers he’s doing this for El.

 

Speaking of which, he never really asked what her costume was. _Whatever it is, she probably looks_ _—_

 

“Holy _shit_ , Dustin! What _are_ you?”

 

He turned his head abruptly at the voice, the radio suddenly changing from _Monster Mash_ to _Like A Virgin._

 

_Amazing._

 

Standing in the doorway: sweet, 17-year-old El Hopper.

 

Except she looks like the most authentic rockstar Mike had ever seen, and it makes his legs go numb.

 

He has a staring problem. He _knows_ he has a staring problem because his mother always nags him about it _(“Where are your manners?” he can hear her shrill voice say to him, her forehead creased and eyebrows furrowed.)_ But it’s hard not to stare when your crush’s arm is resting against the door frame, covered in white lace fingerless gloves. And she’s wearing a white lace dress that’s tattered and torn at the edges. And pearl necklaces are cascading down her neck. And her hair is curled and teased and messy and _perfect_.

 

But El’s attention is currently on Dustin, whose skin is bloodied and torn, with dark red liquid dripping from a fake cleaver that’s jammed into his head. She’s examining him, carefully picking up fake patches of skin off his face. He quickly swatted her hand away in an effort to maintain his hard work. “I’m a zombie, duh.” he said defensively. “What are _you_ supposed to be?”

 

“I’m Madonna, _duh_.” El mimicked him, striking a pose with both hands on her hips, looking pleased with herself.

 

_This has got to be one of Mike’s dreams. This doesn’t happen in real life. No way._

 

He didn’t realize he was gawking at her like some brainless dweeb until she turned to him. She looked taken aback at first, eyes roaming from his boots up to his vest (flustering Mike greatly), then she finally cleared her throat and put on her usual, pretty smirk. “Hey, Han Solo. Nice.”

 

Mike swallowed. “Hey. You, um, you look really good.”

 

_Good. Nice word choice. Very descriptive._

 

And, he doesn’t know if this is just his imagination, but Mike could’ve sworn a soft shade of pink, not unlike that of a rose, appeared on her cheeks after he said that. “Thanks. So do you. I was actually gonna be Princess Leia but the costume was sold out.”

 

“A fellow Star Wars fan.” Mike smiled with a raised eyebrow. “ _Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger_ _—_ ”

 

“ _—_ _Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering. I sense much fear in you_.” El finished with a grin. They’re standing a foot apart, but their gazes are locked, and it feels like no one else is in the room.

 

That is, until Max barges into the room, dressed as red riding hood (funnily enough, because she always hated being nicknamed “little red” due to her fiery hair). “It’s already seven, we should get going.”

 

And Mike is brought back down to reality, sharing shy smiles and glances with El as they pile into Dustin’s Oldsmobile.

 

______________________________________________

 

Dustin drives while Lucas is in shotgun, meaning El’s thigh is pressed against Mike’s in the backseat, meaning goosebumps form all over her when he shifts even the slightest bit.

 

The October sky is growing darker, bathing him in a soft dark blue. He’s dressed as Han Solo and his dark, wavy hair is pushed back a bit more, showcasing his eyes that El could melt into.

 

And she catches him staring too, sometimes. Gaze traveling from her dress up to her eyes, and they meet for a moment before breaking away. It’s like they both have so many things still left unsaid, ever since that night at Will’s.

 

But the night is perfect, nonetheless, and El catches herself smiling while watching her friends obnoxiously sing along to _Sweet Child O’ Mine_ as they bob their heads to the rhythm. Outside, kids are scurrying from house to house, carrying pillowcases full of candy and wearing Christmas morning smiles, illuminated only by the moon and glow of the streetlights.

 

El can’t remember the last time she had a normal Halloween like this. Before the divorce, before Martin, before running away in the middle of the night to Hawkins.

 

Before Mike.

 

 

High school parties are different in real life than they are in movies, El figured out that night.

 

Standing on Jimmy DeLuca’s front porch (senior, host of the party, _“Total douchebag”_ , according to Max), hands rubbing and embracing her own cold, bare arms, teeth chattering, El stared expectantly at the front door that she had already knocked on twice. The party stood huddled just behind her (Mike the closest, his heat buzzing behind her back), feet shuffling, unsure of what to expect. Whoops and hollers echoed from the front lawn, where a keg stand competition was taking place between two jocks. Litters of toilet paper streamers and red solo cups hung from trees and neighboring cars, and the strong smell of cheap cigarettes wafted throughout the midnight fog.

 

Just as El was lifting her knuckle to knock for the third time, the door swung open like a gust of wind, a roar of heavy rock music spilling from the small house, shaking its walls. Standing at the door was a tall boy sporting a tropical shirt, lei necklace and sunglasses, looking like a Hawaiian tourist.

 

“Juniors. Come in, come in!” he yelled over the music, not-so-swiftly checking El out as they entered.

 

The potent smell of sweaty teenagers and alcohol hit El’s nose before she saw it. It was a crowded little house with dim lighting, Halloween-themed streamers that were already beginning to rip apart, and _Billboard 1988 Top Songs_ blasting from stereos.

 

But shuffling through the sweaty bodies, wearing costumes that, like El, probably took a stupid amount of time to make (tooth fairy, Freddie Mercury, Tin Man, Dorothy), she realized that their faces were glowing with youth. Probably because they know dancing along to this shitty music and drinking this shitty alcohol is dumb, and it won’t last forever, and it has no real impact on their lives, but it’s fun to just _pretend_ once in a while that everything’s okay.

 

“Hey,” said Mike in a low, safe voice, bending down to reach El’s ear, nudging her in the shoulder. “We’re gonna go get drinks.” —pointing to the kitchen bar, trying to seem like he’s done this before which strikes El as adorable— “Wanna come?”

 

She stared into his amusing brown eyes, his hair already starting to fall back in them again, and nodded. Following close behind him and the rest of the party, heavy metal ringing in her ears, El sees a guy hanging from the banister, puking up the mysterious, red liquid from the punch bowl. _How charming._

 

El had no idea Mike Wheeler was such a lightweight.

 

After three red-solo-cupfuls of the drink (a mix of alcohol, fruit punch and god knows what else) he was ecstatic, already clutching onto his fourth, dancing to _Girls on Film_ by Duran Duran in a jumpy, excited manner, twirling El and making her laugh so hard her ribs hurt.

 

It was the most beautiful Mike had ever looked to El. His cheeks and lips were flushed red, eyes sparkly, hair flying in and out of his face, smile bright enough to attract the whole room (if anyone was sober enough to pay attention).

 

He apparently knows all the lyrics to this song, wackily contorting his face to sing all the parts, thrashing his head back whenever the chorus kicked in (And he had a funny way of dancing, too, like a dad on vacation). El had been dancing with him and the rest of the party, all six of their heads bobbing feverishly to the rhythm, for over an hour now; jumping around stupidly and whipping her hair and knocking her head back to down another cup of “juice”.

 

“ _Girls on film!_ ” Mike yelled for the hundredth time, shooting El a sloppy wink and finger guns. She hated how cute that gesture was.

 

A few more songs had passed now and Lucas and Max began to simmer down, fading in the background as they slow danced and kissed. Dustin was leaning against the banister, solo cup in hand as he attempted to chat up some blonde girl in a _Flashdance_ costume. Mike, while still wasted, took up a more serious face as he swayed to the music, scanning, _searching_ El.

 

She wished she knew what he was thinking.

 

But amidst all the blurry, neon-colored jumpiness, El hadn’t realized just how much Will had to drink. That is, until he doubled over, gagged, and ran straight to the restroom, pushing between the suddenly alert crowd of teenagers.

 

El, though a bit woozy, noticed this and jerked her head in his direction, gazing past the crowd concernedly. Then she turned back to Mike, who seemed totally oblivious, sipping from his cup and bobbing his head.

 

Carefully, she took the cup from his grasp, setting it down on an end table. He stared at the cup, then at her, like a confused puppy dog that suddenly got his treat taken away. “What— what was that for?” his voice was soft and mellow, underlied with genuine, childlike confusion.

 

“Sorry,” El said apologetically. “But I think Will is currently puking his guts out.”

 

“Oh.” was all he said. El realized drunk Mike is probably not the best at handling these types of situations, so she decided to ask Dustin to keep an eye on him in case he did anything stupid (much to Dustin’s annoyance, as the blonde girl suddenly became disinterested) and weaved through the crowd to find Will.

 

The long, dim-lit corridor of doors confused El, stumbling into vacant bedrooms and _occupied_ bedrooms, until she found yellow light sliding in from a half-cracked bathroom door, slowly pushing it open to find sure enough: Will, hunched over the toilet bowl, heaving breathlessly.

 

“Oh my god,” she said while shutting the door behind her, the music suddenly drowning out. She instinctively knelt next to him and began to rub his back. His face was pale and his lips were an ill brown; his copper hair messy and pushed back. “Are you okay?”

 

He coughed, then spit into the bowl. “What do you think?” he said, voice rough and hoarse.

 

El squeezed her eyes shut. “Right. Stupid question.”

 

More vomiting. El attempted to drown the noise out, thinking it might make _her_ sick. She started to rub his back again, but this time he rose a cold, pale hand up to stop her. She obliged, thinking maybe he doesn’t like to be touched while emptying his stomach.

 

More vomiting, heaving, coughing. Then after a long, silent pause, he said flatly, “You can go now.”

 

“What? No!” El chuckled. “You still don’t feel well.”

 

“El, seriously—”

 

“Don’t worry about me, okay? I’ll stay here as long as I have to.” she assured.

 

“I said—”

 

Suddenly remembering a nausea remedy her mother told her about when she was 11, El stood up and made her way to the mirror, rummaging through the medicine cabinet. “I just got the best idea,” she started.

 

“El—”

 

“I just need…” —searching behind Pepto Bismol and tampon boxes— “Some towels…”

 

“ _I said leave me the fuck alone!”_ Will yelled shrilly, eyes darting up at El, making her forget about everything she was doing.

 

It’s silent for a minute, as El processes what just happened. _Will Byers, who never really tried to make El feel welcome in Hawkins. Will Byers, who goes silent whenever El walks in the room, like she’s a black void that sucks every ounce of joy out of him._

 

 _Will Byers, who just yelled at El for trying to_ **_fucking_ ** _help him._ Her blood begins to run cold, and her ears begin to ring. Palms resting against the sink counter and gazing vacantly at her own reflection in the mirror: smudged eyeliner and punch-tinted red lips, in her stupid Madonna costume.

 

Then, at a low voice, she says: “Why do you hate me so much?”

 

Silence. She then turns to him, who looks at a loss for words. But she continues. “I’ve never done anything to you. This whole time you’ve treated me like shit but I try. I still try.”

 

Angry by just looking at him, she turns to exit, swinging open the door. Rock music spills through the small bathroom and rushes to her brain, red hot and unapologetic.

 

“El…” she hears weakly behind her shoulder. She slams the door behind her, though, earning the attention of a few people standing around in the hallway.

 

But when El pushes through the crowd and reaches the party again, woozy and toppling over each other, she realizes that it’s not right to leave Will there like that; alone and drunk. So she sends Max to him instead, lightly tugging on her red hood and explaining the situation in her ear. The redhead nodded in alertness, blue eyes wide, and disappeared down the corridor.

 

El hates that she has a lump in her throat, that her eyes are stinging with the urge to cry because she’s just so _fucking_ confused and hurt and frustrated.

 

But the feeling drowns in an instant when a familiar hand cups her shoulder, big and warm, like a sense of comfort amongst the blaring Mötley Crüe song and uneasy crowd.

 

It’s Mike, all droopy eyes and unruly hair, wearing a coy smile on his lips. “Hi.”

 

And El just melts into his comfort, suddenly wrapping her arms around his torso and resting her ear against his chest, his heartbeat steady. It feels _perfect_ ; he’s tall and warm and smells like cologne with an undertone of sweat.

 

“Woah, woah,” he said at first before returning the embrace, his arms around El’s shoulders, his chin resting on the top of her head. “You give good hugs.” he whispered, drunkenly swaying a bit.

 

El chuckled against his chest.

 

Then he bent down to meet her ear. “I wanna leave.” His words were slurred and childlike, causing El to bite back a smile.

 

“Me too.” she said.

 

“Leave _now?_ ” Lucas yelled over the stereo when El inquired about it. She nodded. He sighed and pointed to Dustin. “He’s in _no_ place to drive us anywhere.”

 

Lucas was right, as El turned to see a crowd gathered around Dustin, who was dancing on top of the kitchen island.

 

“Right,” she muttered, turning back to Lucas at a loss.

 

He examined her for a moment, then sighed. “Maple Street is kinda close to here,” he started. “You could walk to Mike’s. His parents will flip their shit if they see how drunk he is, though.” A small smirk.

 

El considered this for a moment. _She could use some fresh air_ —looking over at a drunk Mike— _and it’d be nice knowing he gets home safe._

 

“Perfect, thanks.” she said, gratefully cupping Lucas’ shoulder.

 

Grabbing Mike’s hand (“Let’s get you home, Wheeler,”), she pushed and prodded past the crowd and out the front door.

 

The night was chilly, with trick-or-treaters beginning to wind down and crickets chirping in the grass. The moon and stars were high and bright in the inky sky, illuminating the sidewalk (thankfully, to El) as they walked. Everything was serene and quiet.

 

Save for Mike, whose arm is slung around El’s shoulder for support, singing show tunes.

 

“ _I recall Central Park in fall,_ ” he yelled, shaking a weary fist in the air.

 

By now, El was laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes. She put a finger up to his lips to shush him. “You’re gonna wake your neighbors!” she stage whispered as they winded into the familiar cul-de-sac, swaying due to Mike’s weight on her.

 

“Miss Phyllis can suck it.” he said wearily, flipping off the neighboring house next to his. “ _And_ her cats.”

 

“Mike!” El said, playfully punching him in the side.

 

Just as they set foot on the Wheelers’ front lawn, he lost his balance a bit, pulling El down with him like an anchor.

 

“No, come on, you’re almost home,” she muttered while pulling him back up. “See, you got it.”

 

“H-home?” he said, peering up at the familiar structure.

 

“Yes,” El whispered, walking him up the pavement. She turned to look at him for a moment, his pale features sharp in the night. “Home.”

 

But she stopped just at the front door, unsure of how to do this. _Knocking or ringing the doorbell is out of the question. If only there was some way she could find a—_

 

“Key?” said Mike slurrishly, kicking over the welcome mat to reveal a small, silver house key.

 

El grinned and quickly planted a chaste kiss on his cheek. It was soft against her lips, just how she always imagined it, and for that split second she felt a current of electricity surge between them.

 

Flustered and blushing, she pulled away from Mike (whose reaction was still, save for a slight dopey smile plastered across his face) and grabbed the key, twisting it in the keyhole until she heard a click.

 

Then, as quietly as her drunk self could, El turned the knob and cracked open the front door ever-so-slowly, Mike’s head peering in just behind her shoulder. A slant of yellow lamplight poured onto the dark porch and illuminated their faces, but everything seemed to be going smoothly.

 

Until the door roared a loud, eerie creak and echoed throughout the house. El and Mike both flinched and halted, strained noises escaping their throats, awaiting their doom.

 

Nothing.

 

Breathing a sigh of relief, El carefully stepped into the foyer, Mike following behind although it was _his_ house. Tiptoeing past the living room to the stairs, El noticed the faint murmur of TV and snoring. She peered in to see an older man, glasses askew, passed out on a Lay-Z-Boy.

 

“My dad,” Mike whispered with a sigh.

 

El nodded slowly, curiously. They reached the foot of the stairs, El giving Mike the railing side and hoisting his arm around her shoulder again. “Alright, almost there,” she muttered as they began their ascent.

 

 _Successfully snuck in!_ El thinks, pleased with herself. _Stealthy, like a ninja—_

 

“El, sweetie? Is that you?” said a familiar voice, emerging from the kitchen.

 

_Shit, shit, shit._

 

El froze for a moment, then turned around.

 

Standing at the bottom of the banister was Karen Wheeler, hair perfectly curled, red wine in hand. She looked tired, arms folded over her satin night robe and eyes concerned.

 

“Um, hi, Mrs. Wheeler. We just got back from the party.” El squeaked out, hoping and praying Mike wouldn’t open his mouth and say something stupid.

 

Karen stared suspiciously at Mike, whose head was hung, then back at El. “You guys have fun?” she asked, swishing around her wine glass.

 

“Yes, yeah, so much fun.” El exclaimed, nodding her head vigorously.

 

The woman nodded slowly, then leaned closer to Mike, running a hand through his hair. “Michael, honey?”

 

“Mmm,” was all he muttered, trying not to make eye contact or else it’d be a dead giveaway.

 

More silence. An awkward staring contest between El and Karen. Sweaty palms. Finally, El cleared her throat. “I’m just... gonna make sure he gets to bed. Then I’ll figure out how I’m gonna get back home.” A chuckle.

 

A look came over Karen’s face; consideration. “Would you… like for me to drive you home?”

 

El stared at her, dumbfounded. “Uh… yeah. That’d be great, actually. Thanks.”

 

The woman offered her a close-mouthed smile as a dismissal. Before the two could continue upstairs, however, she tapped on El’s shoulder, nodded at Mike, and mouthed _thank you._

 

El always imagined what Mike’s bedroom looked like. Blue walls, a made bed, and a collection of books; neat and tidy.

 

It was quite the opposite.

 

As soon as the door opened, with Mike stumbling behind El, a pile of laundry knocked over and onto the floor. Journals, CDs, pencils, candy wrappers, and other things El couldn’t make out due to the mere moonlight peaking through the blinds were scattered across the carpet. In the corner stood a bunk bed, which is far from what she had ever pictured. But his room was charming, in an odd way. It had character.

 

Stumbling over to the bottom bunk, El placed Mike down as gently as she could. But the back of his head accidentally hit against the wooden ladder, earning a small “Ow!” from him.

 

El fumbled in the darkness for his nightstand lamp, and it clicked on to illuminate a soft, orange glow. Turning back to Mike, she discovered he had already pulled the duvet over himself, his eyelids heavy with sleep, muttering inaudible nonsense.

 

El smiled to herself, then began to leave when he softly grasped her arm again. “El?” His voice was sleepy and strained.

 

Her heart skipped a small beat, turning around again to where he layed. “Yes?” she whispered.

 

“You…” he started, trying to find the words. “You look really pretty.”

 

El knew she was blushing, but she hoped Mike hadn’t noticed. He looked _beautiful_. Hair fanned out against the pillow, freckles dotted in constellations on his skin, lips pink and parted.

 

El wanted to kiss him. She didn’t want to wait any longer, amongst shy smiles and awkward laughs. She wanted him to be hers, right then and there. She yearned for it.

 

But she also knows Mike is drunk, _way_ more drunk than her. He’s not in the right state, and it’s not how El wants to kiss him for the first time.

 

_Not like this._

 

So that’s why she just smiled, turned off the lamp and whispered, “Goodnight, Mike.”

 

“G’night.” he muttered, turning to the side in a snuggly motion.

 

 

 


End file.
